ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 


BAYARD    TAYLOR 
1877 


On  Two  Continents 

Memories  of  Half  a  Century 


BY 

MARIE  HANSEN   TAYLOR 

With  the  Co-operation  of 
LILIAN  BAYARD  TAYLOR  KILIANI 


Illuitrtttd  from  Contemporary  Portrait*  and  Paintimgt 
ty  "Bayard  Taylor 


New   York 

Doubleday,  Page  &  Company 
1905 


Copyright,  1905,  by 

Doubleday,  Page  Sf  Company 

Published,  October,  1905 


All  rights  reserved, 

including  that  of  translation  into  foreign  language*, 
including  the  Standinavian 


MOTTO 

"  SDfe  alten  Ztittn  legten  0icJ  mit  toatm 
an'0  l^erj,  und  alte  Eiebe,  feejuisfucfit  tmd 
Zubrrsicfjt  ntiilltcn  mtcg  00,  ba00  Ute 
gan^  ttrtirrKt  feat." 

— VARNHAGEN  VON  ENSK 


255137 


CONTENTS 

PACK 

CHAPTER  I — ON  THE  SEEBERG 

The  Gotha  Observatory — Peter  Andreas  Hansen 
and  His  Wife — Hansen 's  Scientific  Accomplish 
ments — His  Knowledge  of  Languages  and  Music 
— Life  at  the  Observatory — Development  of  Liter 
ary  Taste — To  School  in  the  City  .  .  .  3 

CHAPTER  II — FROM  THE  SEEBERG  TO  TOWN 

The  Hansen  Family  Moves  to  Gotha — The  Educa 
tion  of  a  German  Girl  in  the  Early  Nineteenth 
Century — Excellence  of  the  Theatre — New  Scientific 
Triumphs  of  Herr  Hansen — Professor  Newcomb's 
Opinion  of  Them — Mrs.  Emil  Braun — Her  Acquaint 
ance  with  Famous  English  Men  and  Women — Frau 
Hansen 's  Brother-in-law  Meets  Bayard  Taylor  in 
Egypt — Taylor's  First  Visit  to  Gotha  .  .  .16 

CHAPTER  III — IN  ROME 

Visit  to  the  Brauns  at  Rome — First  Impression  of 
the  Eternal  City — Mrs.  Browning's  Description 
of  Emil  Braun — Theodore  de  Witt — Intellectual 
Growth  in  Rome — Antique  Sculpture — Meeting 
with  Robert  and  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning — 
Prince  Friedrich  Wilhelm  (Emperor  Frederick) — 
A  Summer  in  the  Apennines — Second  Winter  in 
Rome 26 

CHAPTER  IV — RETURN  TO  GOTHA 

Removal  of  the  Observatory  to  the  City — Hansen 
and  Gauss — Taylor's  Second  Visit  to  Gotha  in  1856 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS— Continued 

PAGE 

— His  Appearance — Trip  to  England — Taylor's 
Growing  Fame — Engagement  of  Marie  Hansen 
and  Bayard  Taylor — Comic  German  Verses  by 
Taylor— The  Wedding— Leaving  the  Old  Home — 
Again  in  London — Meeting  with  Thackeray — On 
the  Way  to  Greece — Taylor's  Travels  in  Greece — 
His  Letters — Birth  of  a  Daughter  .  .  39 

CHAPTER  V — OUTRE  MER 

Arrival  in  New  York — Dana,  Putnam,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  R.  H.  Stoddard— Trip  to  Taylor?s  Home, 
Kennett  Square — Meeting  with  the  Quaker  Family 
— Taylor's  Ancestors — Acquiring  Land — Prepara 
tions  to  Lecture — George  William  Curtis — Removal 
to  Brooklyn — Common  Life  of  the  Taylors  and 
Stoddards — Letters  from  Taylor  on  His  Lecturing 
Tour— In  the  Ohio  Forest— At  St.  Paul— Return 
to  the  Farm  at  Kennett  Square — Building  the 
House — Lecturing  Again — To  San  Francisco — Ex 
periences  in  California — Once  More  in  New  York — 
Its  Literary  Circles — Boker,  Aldrich  and  Stedman — 
The  Warner  and  Carey  Sisters — Horace  Greeley — 
Bryant  —  Taylor  Still  Lectures — Notes  from  the 
Lecture  Field  .  .  ...  .  .  58 

CHAPTER  VI — THE  NEW  HOMESTEAD 

Appearance  and  Location  of  "Cedarcroft" — Family 
and  Visitors — The  Quaker  Neighbours — The  Status 
of  Woman  Among  Them — Perished  Types  .  .  86 

CHAPTER  VII— WAR  TIME 

Rumours  of  Coming  Conflict — Election  of  Lincoln 
— In  New  York — Lecturing  to  Pay  for  "  Cedarcroft " 
—The  Firing  on  Sumter — Progress  of  the  War — 
—Supposed  Danger  to  "  Cedarcroft " — A  Visit  to  the 
Fatherland — The  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Saxe-Coburg- 


CONTENTS— Continued  Jx 

PAGE 

Gotha   Entertain  Taylor — Return    to   America — 
Visitors  at  "Cedarcroft" — War  Scenes — New  Lec 
tures — War    Correspondence    for    the    Tribune — 
Taylor's  Appointment  as  Secretary  of  the  Legation 
at  St.  Petersburg     .         .         .       x,         .         .         .       94 

CHAPTER  VIII — THE  ST.  PETERSBURG  EPISODE 

In  the  Far  North — Society  in  the  Russian  Capital — 
Journeys  in  the  Empire — Novgorod  and  Moscow — 
A  Russian  Dinner — Taylor  Becomes  Chargt  d'- 
Affaires — The  Diplomatic  Corps — Lord  Napier, 
Baron  Gevers,  Count  Golz — Taylor  and  Russian 
Confidence  in  the  North's  Victory — Christmas  and 
New  Year — The  Emperor's  Reception — The  Tay 
lors  at  Court — Society  and  Gossip — Plans  for  the 
Future — Farewell  to  Russia  .  .  *  .  ,120 

CHAPTER  IX — THREE  PROLIFIC  YEARS 

Lecturing  and  Novel  Writing— The  "Echo  Club" — 
American  Painters— "The  Picture  of  St.  John" — 
Improving  "Cedarcroft"— The  Winter  of  1865 
in  New  York — Taylor's  Fortieth  Birthday — Assas 
sination  of  Lincoln — Guests  at  "Cedarcroft" — 
Boker,  McEntees,  Mr.  Stedman— The  "Story  of 
Kennett" — Lecturing  in  the  West — Beginning  of 
the  "Faust"  Translation — Letters  from  the  West  145 

CHAPTER  X — IN  EUROPE 

A  Week  in  England— "Barry  Cornwall"— Mr. 
Swinburne  Reading  His  Poems — From  Gotha  to 
Geneva — Taylor's  Letters  from  the  Pyrenees, 
Majorca,  Barcelona,  etc. — In  Germany — Gustav 
Freytag — A  Picnic  in  the  Thuringian  Forest — 
Venice — Florence — Naples — Sorrento — Rome — In 
fluence  of  Rome  on  Literary  Work — Corsica — The 
Old  Home — New  Poems  and  Studies  .  .  .  173 


x  CONTENTS— Continued 

PAG» 

CHAPTER  XI — THE  TRANSLATION  OF  "FAUST" 

Winter  at  "Cedarcroft " — Rendering  the  "  Walpurgis 
Night,"  the  "Intermezzo"— "Faust,"  Part  II— 
"Home  Pastorals" — Their  Form — Lecturing  Anew 
— Letters  from  Utah — Failure  of  San  Francisco 
Lectures — News  of  Sedan — Final  Completion  of 
"  Faust " — Plan  of  a  Combined  Biography  of  Goethe 
and  Schiller— Sale  of  the  "Faust"  Translation — 
The  Burden  of  "Cedarcroft" — "The  Masque  of  the 
Gods" 198 

CHAPTER  XII — IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  AGAIN 

Gotha — Berthold  Auerbach — Travelling  in  Goethe's 
Country — The  Italian  Lakes — German  Appreciation 
of  Taylor — "Lars" — Death  of  Horace  Greeley — 
Failure  of  Income  from  the  Tribune — Viennese  Cor 
respondence  for  the  Tribune — New  Poems — Letters 
from  Weimar — Egypt — Italy — Death  of  Hansen — 
Back  to  America 223 

CHAPTER  XIII — SUNSET 

Admirers  at  Home — Lecturing  in  the  West — 
Meeting  with  Sidney  Lanier — Struggling  with 
Narrow  Means — "Prince  Deukalion" — In  the 
Tribune  Office— The  "Centennial  Ode" — Toiling 
in  Summer — Gradual  Wearing  Out  of  Taylor's 
Strength — Resting  in  Sulphur  Springs — New  Liter 
ary  Labours — Taylor's  Appointment  as  Ambassador 
to  Germany — At  Berlin — Letters  from  Berlin — Visit 
of  General  and  Mrs.  Grant  to  Berlin — Bismarck 
and  Grant — Last  Letters — A  Royal  Wedding — 
Failure  of  Taylor's  Health— The  "Epicidium"  Ode 
— Taylor's  Death. 254 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

BAYARD  TAYLOR  (1877)       ..'       •        •        •        Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

PETER  ANDREAS  HANSEN    .                 .        .        .  6 

THE  DUCAL  OBSERVATORY  AT  GOTHA           .        .  39 

BAYARD  TAYLOR  (1864) 94 

"  CEDARCROFT  "            ......  152 

GOETHE'S  GARDEN  HOUSE  AT  WEIMAR        .        .  238 

SIDNEY  LANIER  (1875)          •        •        •        •        •  258 

EMPEROR  WILLIAM  I.  AND  PRINCE  BISMARCK  280 


ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 


CHAPTER  I 
ON  THE  SEEBERG 

MY  childhood  belongs  to  a  bygone  time.  In  those 
days  the  power  of  steam  had  hardly  been  put  to  the  test ; 
the  electric  spark  had  produced  none  of  its  wonders.  In 
the  evening  people  sat  by  a  tallow  candle,  which  was 
ignited  with  a  paper  lighter,  and  no  household  was  with 
out  its  flint  and  steel  as  well  as  its  punk  or  tinder  for 
starting  the  fire.  The  snuffers,  on  their  metal  stand, 
lay  beside  the  candle — and  not  for  show  alone.  Goethe 
had  even  sighed  in  rhyme: 

"Who,  forsooth,  could  make  a  better  invention 
Than  a  candle  that  burns  without  snuffers'  attention ! " 

So  primitive  was  life  then  in  contrast  with  the  present, 
when  we  suffer  under  the  high  pressure  of  a  highly  com 
plex  existence,  that,  for  instance,  on  the  occasion  of  a 
visit  which  my  father  paid  to  the  wife  of  the  Cabinet 
Minister,  he  found  that  very  aristocratic  lady  knitting  a 
stocking  by  the  light  of.  a  single  tallow  candle.  Combined 
with  this  simplicity  of  living,  people  were  generally  en 
dowed  with  a  singleness  of  heart  which  was  more  esteemed 
than  material  wealth,  and  a  spirit  of  economy  which 
benefited  the  ensuing  generation. 

But  it  is  not  in  order  to  describe  these  times  that  I  write 
my  reminiscences ;  it  is  rather  because  early  in  life  I  came 
in  contact  with  eminent  and  distinguished  people,  of 
whom  I  feel  impelled  to  give  an  account. 

3 


:TWO   CONTINENTS 


I  was  born  on  the  hill  called  the  Seeberg,  distant  one 
hour  (about  three  miles)  from  the  town  of  Gotha.     While 
digging  in  the  sand  and  building  clay  houses,  we  children 
often  found  fossil  shells,  so  that  the  name  of  the  mountain 
seemed  to  be  justified.     And  yet  the  house  in  which  we 
lived  should  have  been  christened  the  Windcastle,  for  all 
the  year  it  was  exposed  to  the  blasts  that  blow  from  eve^ 
point  of  the  compass.     The  bare  summit  rose  solits 
out  of  the  plain,  crowned  by  the  Ducal  Observatory, 
which  was  joined  at  right  angles  the  less  pretenti( 
dwelling  house.     My  father,    Peter  Andreas  Hanser 
native  of  Tondern  in  northern  Schleswig-Holstein, 
a  successor  of  von  Zach,  Lindenau  and  Encke,  as  DiV 
of  the  Observatory,  and  my  mother  was  descer 
a  long  line  of  huntsmen,  who  until  the  beginr 
nineteenth  century  had  lived  in  an  idyllic  syl 
at  the  foot  of  Castle  Scharfenstein,  the  anceso 
the  Barons  of  the  Empire  von  Uetterot.     My  .no 
slender  figure  and  finely  cut  features,  however,  bor 
resemblance  to  the  Nimrods  of  her  race,  and  iher 
intelligence  made  her  a  fit  companion  for  that  man  of 
stern  science,  my  father. 

My  mother  was  considerably  younger  than  her  husband, 
and  had  been  an  attractive  beauty  in  her  youth.  Beside 
her  the  stately  figure  of  my  father  was  doubly  con 
spicuous.  His  deep  blue  eyes,  delicate  but  wide  nostrils, 
and  broad,  well-modelled  brow  —  framed  in  a  luxuriant 
growth  of  hair  which  had  early  lost  its  chestnut  hue 
and  surrounded  his  head  with  a  silver  halo  —  gave  the 
impression  of  a  man  of  unusually  strong  intellect  and 
character.  His  figure  was  well  knit  and  broad  shouldered, 
of  more  than  middle  stature  ;  his  fair  skin  was  so  fine  and 


ON  THE   SEEBERG  5 

delicate  that  many  a  lady  might  have  envied  it,   and 
his  small  hands  were  beautifully  shaped.     Living  as  he 
did,  entirely  for  his  science,  it  is  probable  that  my  mother, 
who  was  married  to  him  in  her  sixteenth  year,  had  to  go 
through  some  serious  schooling  before  she  learned  to  con 
form  to  the  fixed  peculiarities  of  the  husband,  who  was 
•fteen  years  her  senior.     A  characteristic  anecdote  of 
.e  early  years  of  their  married  life  was  related  to  me 
.  ng  afterward  by  an  aged  friend.     My  parents  attended 
•ball  of  the  " Mohrengesellschaft, "  or  " Society  of  the 
••or,"  so  called  from  the  hostelry  of  that  name,  in  which 
reunions  were  held.     My  mother  wore  her  wedding 
Tf  cf  white  satin  and  a  wreath  of  forget-me-nots  in 
,  .  brown  hair  (a  costume  singularly  becoming  to 

ate  beauty).     In  the  course  of  the  evening  she 
•  missed   her   husband ;    she   sought    and    ques- 
L<  vain — he  had  disappeared.     Frantic  with  ex- 
ne*.t-  and    fear    she   ran    alone,   in  her  white  satin 
pers,  the  long  way  from  the  town  up  to  the  top  of 
t       Seeberg,   where  she  found  my  father  seated  at  his 
desk,  buried  in  the  solution  of  a  mathematical  problem. 
A  sudden  idea  which  had  struck  him  while  in  the  midst 
of   the    dancing  throng  had  driven  from  his   mind    all 
thought  of  the  existence  of  his  young  wife,  and  he  had 
rushed  headlong  home  to  fix  this  idea  on  paper. 

My  father  owed  his  education  entirely  to  his  own 
exertions.  His  parents,  of  Danish  extraction,  were 
simple,  honest  burghers.  His  father  followed  the  trade 
of  a  gold-  and  silver-smith,  which  yielded  him  a  meagre 
profit.  His  only  son  was  therefore  obliged  to  be  satis 
fied  with  the  acquirements  which  a  common  school 
could  furnish.  Nevertheless,  the  youth's  evident  talent 


6  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

for  mathematics,  which  showed  itself  even  in  his  boy 
hood,  attracted  the  attention  of  a  friendly  neighbour,  a 
physician  who  had  a  penchant  for  this  special  science. 
Many  years  later  my  father  told  me  that  this  benevolent 
man  during  his  school  life  lent  him  from  an  excellent 
library  instructive  books,  especially  those  on  mathe 
matical  subjects,  so  that  he  was  able  to  extend  his  frag 
mentary  knowledge,  and  to  fill  out  the  gaps  in  a  desultory 
school  education.  The  persistent  industry  which  he 
maintained  throughout  his  entire  life,  joined  to  an  ardent 
thirst  for  knowledge,  enabled  him  to  overcome  all  the 
obstacles  which  arose  in  his  path,  and  finally  to  enjoy 
high  honours. 

Besides  his  genius  for  exact  science,  my  father  pos 
sessed  a  remarkable  talent  for  languages  and  music. 
Without  the  help  of  a  teacher  he  acquired  a  knowledge 
of  French  and  Latin,  and  later  published  treatises  in  these 
languages.  Speaking  Danish  and  German  equally  well 
from  childhood,  he  also  spoke  and  read  Swedish,  could 
make  himself  understood  in  English,  and  had  some 
knowledge  of  Greek.  Music  was  a  delight  and  pleasure 
to  him  during  his  whole  life.  In  this  accomplishment 
also  he  never  had  instruction.  In  his  youth  he  played 
the  organ  in  the  church,  attempted  the  violin,  and  played 
on  the  piano.  He  executed  only  classical  masterpieces, 
and  read  music  with  ease.  But  the  crowning  quality  of 
his  nature  was  his  absolutely  honourable  character,  to 
which  any  insincerity  or  meanness  was  abhorrent.  The 
demands  which  he  made  upon  himself  in  this  respect  he 
made  equally  on  others,  and  when  he  found  himself 
deceived  he  could  with  difficulty  be  dissuaded  from  harsh 
judgment.  Entirely  wrapped  up  in  his  scientific  pursuits, 


PETER  ANDREAS    HANSEN 
Father  of  Mrs.  Bayard  Taylor 


ON  THE   SEEBERG  7 

he  maintained  only  the  necessary  relations  with  the 
world  at  large,  and  appeared  stern  and  unapproachable 
to  those  who  did  not  know  him  well.  Even  to  those  who 
were  more  nearly  connected  with  him  he  remained  in 
part  reserved  and  uncomprehended,  for  he  revealed  him 
self  only  to  a  few.  These  few,  however,  who  looked  into 
his  soul  discovered  there  a  deep  well-spring  of  feeling, 
and  have  never  been  able  to  forget  with  what  elementary 
force  it  throbbed  and  heaved. 

It  has  always  been  an  enigma  to  me  whence  was  derived 
the  patrician  quality  in  his  nature,  which  manifested 
itself  also  in  his  outward  appearance.  It  could  hardly 
have  had  its  origin  in  the  small  middle-class  surroundings 
in  which  he  grew  up,  but  must  have  been  placed  in  his 
cradle  as  the  gift  of  a  beneficent  fairy — or  it  was  an  in 
heritance  from  his  ancestors,  of  whom  he  knew  absolutely 
nothing.  He  was  fond  of  jestingly  tracing  his  descent 
from  a  certain  anchorsmith,  Matz  Hansen,  who  at  the 
court  of  the  King  of  Denmark  once  drank  a  Russian 
boyar  under  the  table,  as  is  amusingly  related  by  Oehlen- 
schlager,  in  his  "Islands  in  the  South  Sea."  The  for 
mer's  tough,  robust  nature  was  also  characteristic  of  my 
father,  but  in  his  mastery  of  the  art  of  drinking  the 
resemblance  ceased. 

Art  was  foreign  to  my  father's  comprehension,  and  his 
undivided  pursuit  of  science  left  him  little  time  to  occupy 
himself  with  literature.  In  spite  of  this  he  was  not 
unacquainted  with  literary  productions.  He  had  a 
pronounced  predilection  for  certain  masterpieces,  to 
which  he  remained  true  to  the  end  of  his  life.  Thus,  the 
"  Saga  of  Frithiof  "  was  an  especial  favourite,  and  I  remem 
ber  vividly  how  in  later  times,  when  he  was  obliged  to 


8  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

take  more  rest,  he  turned  again  to  this  heroic  epos  and 
read  it  aloud  to  me  in  the  original,  moved  by  delight  in 
its  rythmical  and  intrinsic  beauties,  from  time  to  time 
appealing  to  me,  who,  as  he  knew,  understood  no  Swedish, 
with  the  exclamation:  " Isn't  it  beautiful !"  At  another 
time  he  was  enthusiastic  over  Horace's  Odes.  One 
beautiful  summer  evening,  when  he  was  an  aged  man, 
and  partly  blind,  my  parents,  Taylor  and  myself,  together 
with  a  cousin  of  my  mother  and  an  ardent  admirer  of 
my  husband,  were  gathered  on  the  vine-covered  veranda 
of  the  new  observatory  at  Gotha,  when  the  conversation 
turned  to  Horace  and  the  most  beautiful  of  his  odes. 
My  husband  began  to  quote  from  memory,  Doctor  Henne- 
berg,  my  mother's  cousin,  followed  suit,  and  animated 
by  this  my  father  declaimed  ode  after  ode  with  an 
enthusiasm  which  was  a  revelation. 

My  father  became  Director  of  the  Observatory  of  Gotha 
in  1825,  when  Professor  Encke,  his  predecessor,  accepted 
a  call  to  Berlin.  The  observatory  on  the  Seeberg  had 
been  founded  in  1787  by  Duke  Ernest  II.,  of  Gotha- 
Altenburg,  an  intellectual  and  enlightened  sovereign.  He 
was  liberal  minded,  a  believer  in  the  constitutions  of 
Switzerland  and  the  United  States,  and  he  refused, 
in  spite  of  the  offer  of  large  sums,  to  sell  his  troops  to 
England  for  the  suppression  of  freedom  in  the  colonies. 
In  his  will  he  left  the  sum  of  40,000  thalers  ($30,000) 
out  of  his  private  fortune  as  an  endowment  fund  for  the 
Observatory,  and  expressed  the  wish  that  this  scientific 
foundation  should  remain  as  his  monument. 

The  building  was  originally  well  planned  and  stately. 
The  observatory  proper,  built  of  yellow  Seeberg  sandstone, 
was  the  principal  structure,  flanked  on  each  side  by  a 


ON  THE   SEEBERG  9 

rectangular  wing.  Between  them  lay  an  open  paved 
courtyard.  The  left-  (the  eastern)  wing,  which  contained 
only  offices  and  servants'  rooms,  perhaps  also  stable 
and  carriage  house,  was  no  longer  in  existence  at  the 
time  when  my  father  entered  upon  his  duties  as  director ; 
only  the  foundations  and  the  cellar  remained.  Some 
steps,  covered  by  a  trapdoor,  led  down  into  the  latter. 
In  the  western  wing,  in  which  we  lived,  my  father's 
study  communicated  with  the  observatory.  High  double 
doors  led  first  into  a  small  completely  dark  passage, 
where  on  the  walls  hung  loaded  guns  and  pistols,  none  of 
which  was  ever  put  to  use.  Beyond,  a  tightly  closed  door 
divided  it  from  the  library,  a  large,  very  high  room,  which, 
however,  was  much  inferior  in  size  to  the  halls  beyond, 
which  were  devoted  to  purposes  of  observation.  In  the 
latter,  where  the  chilly  atmosphere  of  science  pervaded 
everything,  and  the  visitor  was  awed  into  walking  with 
noiseless  tread,  the  solemn  silence  was  broken  only  by 
the  ticking  of  astronomical  clocks.  These  spacious 
rooms,  with  their  mysterious  instruments,  inspired  us 
children  with  fear;  the  presence  of  some  colossal  busts 
of  Copernicus,  Tycho  de  Brahe,  and  others,  which  had 
at  some  time  or  other  received  a  coat  of  black  varnish, 
tended  to  heighten  this  impression.  The  succession 
of  rooms  was  interrupted  by  the  hall — a  vestibule 
connected  with  the  principal  entrance  from  the  court 
yard.  Behind  this  was  a  spiral  stairway  of  stone  leading 
to  the  flat  roof,  while  an  immense  folding  door  opened 
into  the  garden  toward  the  south.  On  pleasant  summer 
afternoons  we  drank  our  coffee  in  this  so-called  "hall" 
and  enjoyed  the  view  of  the  faint  blue  chain  of  the 
Thurindan  Mountains  and  of  the  castles  of  the  Drei 


io  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

Gleichen*  rising  eastward  out  of  the  plain.  We  children 
experienced  a  special  pleasure  then,  for  three  or  four 
of  us  were  allowed  to  sit  in  the  giant  armchair  that  had 
come  down  to  us  from  the  time  of  Herr  von  Zach.  It 
was  far  from  beautiful,  but  conspicuous  by  its  sofa-like 
proportions  and  abnormally  high  back. 

The  rooms  of  the  dwelling  house  wrere  hardly  smaller 
or  lower  in  proportion  than  those  of  the  observatory; 
this  wing  consisted  of  a  first  floor  built  over  extensive 
cellars,  kitchens,  etc.,  and  a  low-ceiled  upper  story 
which  contained  for  the  most  part  the  living-rooms  of 
the  janitor.f  There  was  neither  spring  nor  well  upon 
the  Seeberg.  Rain  water  was  collected  in  immense 
wooden  tubs  that  stood  in  the  courtyard  under  the  tin 
leaders  from  the  roof.  Our  drinking  water  was  brought 
daily  in  two  copper  kettles,  hanging  from  a  shoulder 
yoke,  by  a  man-servant.  He  carried  it  from  a  spring 
situated  a  mile  away  in  the  meadows  of  the  nearest 
village,  and  up  a  steep  path  on  the  side  of  the  hill. 

The  climate  on  the  Seeberg  was  extremely  rigorous 
during  the  greater  part  of  the  year.  There  were  no 
trees  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  the  house, 
nor  was  there  any  protection  against  rain  or  storm. 

*Three  isolated  conical  peaks,  each  surmounted  by  a  castle,  that 
rise  abruptly  from  the  plain,  some  miles  south  of  Gotha.  One  of  the 
castles,  the  Wachsenburg,  is  inhabited,  the  others  are  in  ruins.  They 
are  celebrated  in  story  as  the  heritage  of  the  Graf  of  Gleichen,  who 
joined  the  last  Crusade,  was  captured  by  the  Saracens,  and  rescued 
from  slavery  by  the  Sultan's  daughter,  who  fled  with  him.  In  grati 
tude  for  her  sacrifice  of  kindred  and  rank  he  married  her,  although  he 
had  a  wife  in  Germany.  On  his  way  home  he  gained  the  Pope's 
sanction  for  this  step,  and  when  he  returned  with  the  Princess  to  his 
ancestral  castle,  and  told  the  story  of  his  escape  to  the  Countess,  the 
latter  embraced  the  Saracen  wife  and  vowed  to  treat  her  always  as 
a  sister.  The  Count  was  buried  in  the  Cathedral  at  Erfurt,  between 
his  two  wives,  where  their  skeletons  may  be  seen  to  this  day. 

fThe  dwelling  house  was  afterward  converted  into  an  inn,  which 
was  consumed  by  fire  in  the  winter  IQOO-'OI. 


ON  THE   SEEBERG  n 

Often  the  blasts  roared  around  the  solitary  building,  so 
that  no  one  dared  go  outside.  I  recall  a  furious  storm 
that  blew  off  the  flat  copper  roof  of  the  building  and 
carried  it  down  hill  into  the  fields  below.  Another 
storm  lives  in  my  memory — a  snowstorm  that  kept  us 
prisoners  for  several  days  in  the  town  whither  we  had 
gone  to  visit  our  grandparents.  After  the  snow  had 
fallen  all  day  it  was  not  possible  to  reach  the  hill  either 
afoot  or  on  wheels.  Not  till  the  following  day  could  my 
father,  with  the  help  of  snow  shovellers,  dig  a  path 
through  the  drifts  which  had  formed  at  the  foot  of  the 
last  steep  ascent. 

My  father's  salary,  as  long  as  he  lived  on  the  Seeberg, 
amounted  to  600  thalers  ($450)  annually,  with  the  addi 
tion  of  free  lodging,  fuel,  and  light.  Even  in  those  days 
of  cheap  living  this  was  a  scanty  income  for  a  family; 
but  my  mother,  a  woman  whose  education  had  taken  a 
practical  direction,  was  a  very  provident  and  economical 
housekeeper.  In  later  years  I  was  also  schooled  by  her 
in  this  respect — a  circumstance  which  has  been  of  great 
advantage  to  me  during  life.  In  spite  of  her  delicate 
frame  and  frequent  ill-health,  her  house  and  table  were 
always  well  furnished.  She  possessed  the  art  of  improvis 
ing  a  savoury  dinner  with  very  scant  means,  and  was 
sometimes  called  upon  to  exercise  this  art  when  strangers, 
usually  famous  men  of  science,  were  guests  of  my  father. 
She  had  learned  fine  cooking  when  a  very  young  girl  under 
the  direction  of  the  well-known  Kuchenmeister*  Dietrich, 
in  the  Court  kitchen  of  the  Dowager  Duchess  Caroline 
Amalie,  a  favour  which  was  granted  to  my  grandparents 
by  the  princess.  Thus,  she  was  able  to  prepare  most 

*Chef  with  the  title  of  "Kitchenmaster." 


12  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

delicious  food  and  pastry,  a  fact  which  my  father  thor 
oughly  appreciated,  for,  although  never  a  gourmand,  he 
did  not  contemn  the  pleasures  of  the  table.  Whenever 
we  had  guests  the  table  was  set  in  the  Saal,  a  spacious 
apartment  extending  up  through  both  stories  to  the  roof, 
with  three  arched  windows  toward  the  west,  affording  a 
view  of  the  park  side  of  the  town,  crowned  by  the  castle 
of  Friedenstein.  South  of  the  Saal  was  the  "blue 
room,"  the  parlour,  so  called  on  account  of  its  sky-blue, 
glazed  wall  paper  and  curtains  partly  of  white,  partly 
of  pale-blue  mull.  A  bookcase  stood  in  this  room,  which 
in  very  early  years  began  to  have  a  fascination  for  me. 
It  contained  a  complete  edition  of  Goethe's  works,  the 
last  from  his  own  hand,  and  one  of  Schiller's,  as  well  as  a 
number  of  those  so-called  Taschenbucher,  so  popular  at 
the  time,  handsomely  bound,  finely  printed  volumes, 
illustrated  with  good  copper-plate  engravings  and  con 
taining  articles  of  general  literary  interest.  Before  we 
left  the  Seeberg — that  is,  before  I  had  completed  my 
tenth  year — I  had  devoured  all  the  stories  in  the  latter, 
as  well  as  Schiller's  dramatic  works.  Goethe  had  as  yet 
no  interest  for  me. 

I  was  the  oldest  child  and  after  me  came  four  brothers 
and  two  sisters.  When  I  was  old  enough  to  go  to  school 
I  went  to  live  with  my  grandparents  in  town.  For 
vacations  and  on  Wednesday  and  Saturday  afternoons, 
when  we  had  no  school,  I  started  after  lesson  hours 
were  over,  if  the  weather  was  fine,  and  went  home  to  the 
Seeberg.  The  walk  often  seemed  very  long  to  me;  I 
usually  went  alone  and  often  not  without  fear.  The 
latter  half  of  the  way  was  unfrequented ;  only  occasionally 
I  met  a  stone-cart  coming  from  the  quarries  of  the  Great 


ON   THE   SEEBERG  13 

Seeberg,  and  then  was  terrified  by  its  unprepossessing- 
looking  driver.  In  summer  I  was  sometimes  frightened 
by  the  clouds  towering  in  gigantic  masses.  It  seemed  to 
me  I  could  almost  touch  them;  sailing  past  above  me 
they  appeared  to  come  nearer  and  nearer,  as  if  to  over 
whelm  and  devour  me.  Arrived  at  home,  the  boundless 
liberty  of  the  hill  was  mine,  and  I  romped  at  will  with  my 
brothers,  while  down  in  the  town,  at  my  old  grand 
parents'  home,  my  life  was  more  sedate.  But  there  were 
pleasures  there,  too.  An  old  maid-servant  told  me  tales 
and  legends,  also  robber  stories,  alas !  and  in  the  evening 
sometimes  an  ancient  great-great-aunt,  who  had  often 
seen  Goethe  in  Weimar,  sat  at  my  bedside  and  sang  me 
to  sleep  with  the  song : 

"Up  there  on  yonder  mountain 
I've  stood  a  thousand  times." 

My  grandmother  was  a  slender  dark-haired  woman  of 
superior  intellect,  and  masculine  visitors — old  friends  of 
the  family — were  fond  of  conversing  with  her.  One  con 
versation  in  particular  lives  in  my  memory,  which  I  heard 
her  hold  with  the  preacher  of  a  neighbouring  village  about 
the  fortunes  of  the  Saxon-Ernestinian  line  (the  reigning 
Dukes  of  Thuringia)  during  the  Reformation.  I  sat  un 
heeded  at  the  window,  drinking  in  every  word,  and  I 
believe  that  my  growing  interest  in  history  dated  from 
that  incident. 

My  grandfather  was  a  tall  stately  man  with  short, 
curly  blond  hair  and  pleasant  blue  eyes,  a  huntsman 
like  his  father,  grandfather,  and  great-grandfather. 
When  a  young  man  he  was  appointed  as  B'uchsenspanner* 

*The  title  of  an  attendant,  who  was  always  near  the  sovereign 
while  hunting,  and  whose  duty  it  was  to  carry,  load  and  cock  his  gun. 


i4  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

to  Duke  August,*  who  later  raised  him  to  the  dignity 
of  Forstmeister  (Master  of  the  Preserves),  a  rank  which 
had  hitherto  been  conferred  only  upon  noblemen,  and 
kept  him  in  close  attendance  upon  his  person  while  he 
lived.  My  grandfather's  official  residence,  called  the 
H  of j  tiger  ei,  was  situated  on  the  Jagerstrasse,  which  led 
from  the  town  park  into  the  open  fields.  The  eight 
buildings  which  it  comprises  are  all  state  property,  and 
were  then  used  as  official  lodgings  for  Court  functionaries 
of  various  degrees.  Behind  the  dwelling  house  of  the 
Hofjdgerei  lay  a  spacious  courtyard  with  outhouses,  and 
beyond  these  extensive  gardens  with  kennels,  hay  mows, 
and  stables.  In  one  of  the  latter  hunting  implements 
of  all  kinds  were  stored,  among  other  things  a  silk  net 
several  yards  in  length,  for  catching  larks,  that  had 
been  made  by  some  princess  of  the  reigning  house. 

After  the  great  ducal  hunts  in  winter,  at  which  my 
grandfather  was  always  present  in  his  green  huntsman's 
uniform  with  a  short  cutlass  at  his  side,  the  kill  was 
brought  the  next  day  into  the  courtyard  of  the  Hof 
jdgerei;  the  carcasses  were  then  skinned  and  cut  up  by 
the  Forstgehilfen  (foresters'  apprentices)  in  a  large  stone 
vault,  which  was  built  for  this  purpose.  A  portion  of 

*My  mother  told  me  many  interesting  stories  of  this  genial  prince, 
whom  she  had  often  seen  when  a  child.  With  his  well-known  gener 
osity,  he  gave  a  number  of  valuable  gifts  to  my  grandparents,  which 
have  been  handed  down  as  heirlooms  in  the  family.  I  have  in  my 
possession,  also,  a  small  three-cornered  note  in  the  Duke's  own  hand 
writing  addressed  to  my  grandmother,  which  reads: 

"A  Madame  Braun,  ne'e  Henneberg,  chez  elle. — I  hope,  my  dear 
Braun,  that  this  time  you  will  lay  aside  your  bad  habit,  and  accept 
this  small  Christmas  gift,  and  wear  it.  The  closets  in  your  house  are 
very  musty,  and  such  mildew  spots  can  never  be  removed  from  light- 
coloured  stuffs.  Trust  this  time  in  my  good  advice. 

' '  Your  well  wishing 

"llMILE." 

Above  the  wafer  with  which  the  note  is  sealed,  the  letter  "A"  is 
embossed  upon  the  paper. 


ON  THE   SEEBERG  15 

the  venison  was  delivered  to  the  Court  kitchen,  the  rest 
was  sold  to  the  townspeople  at  a  moderate  price.  When 
the  hunt,  which  almost  always  took  place  at  some  dis 
tant  point,  was  over,  and  my  grandfather  had  returned 
home  in  the  evening,  he  immediately  changed  his  clothes, 
put  on  the  gold-embroidered  dress  uniform  (in  which  he 
looked  extremely  handsome),  and  hastened  to  the  castle, 
where  he  took  part  in  the  dinner  of  the  ducal  party. 


CHAPTER  II 
FROM  THE  SEEBERG  TO  TOWN 

IN  the  year  1839,  when  I  was  ten  years  old,  my  father 
received  a  call  to  Dorpat,  which  he  accepted  unwillingly 
and  under  the  stress  of  circumstances.  His  resignation 
had  been  accepted  by  the  Government,  trunks  and  boxes 
had  been  packed  and  were  waiting  in  Lubeck,  preparatory 
to  shipment  into  Russia,  when  one  day,  just  before  our 
departure,  my  father  returned  from  the  town  in  a  state 
of  pleasurable  excitement  and  exclaimed  to  my  mother: 
"You  will  be  happy  to  hear  that  we  stay  here  after  all!" 
Then  he  told  her  that  he  had  accidentally  met  the  Duke* 
in  the  town  park,  who  had  accosted  him  with  the  words : 
"  Well,  Hansen,  you  are  really  going  to  leave  us? "  "  Yes, 
Your  Highness,"  he  had  answered,  "I  am  unfortunately 
obliged  to  do  so."  He  went  on  to  explain  that  with  an 
increasing  family  his  salary  was  no  longer  sufficient  for 
his  needs,  and  that  life  on  the  Seeberg  offered  ever-in 
creasing  discomforts,  whereupon  the  Duke  replied  that 
these  matters  could  be  mended.  At  the  earnest  solicita 
tion  of  the  reigning  prince  my  father  then  expressed  his 
willingness  to  remain  in  Gotha,  and  at  once  received  the 
promise  of  a  higher  salary  and  permission  to  live  in  the 
town  in  the  future,  and  to  direct  the  Observatory  thence. 

Thus,  we  moved  down  from  the  height  of  the  Seeberg 
into  the  suburbs,  where  my  parents  soon  built  a  house 

*Ernest  I.,  of  Saxe-Coburg-Gotha,  who  had  ascended  the  throne  as 
next  in  succession  to  the  extinct  family  of  Saxe-Gotha-Altenburg. 

16 


FROM  THE   SEEBERG  TO   TOWN  17 

of  their  own  in  the  midst  of  a  garden,  with  a  view  of  our 
former  home.  It  was  surrounded  on  all  sides  but  one 
by  fields,  and  no  one  then  suspected  that  a  beautiful 
wide  thoroughfare  (the  Bahnhofstrasse)  would  sub 
sequently  be  laid  along  the  rear  of  the  garden,  whereby 
this  modest  property  would  gain  considerably  in  value. 
My  father  built  a  small  addition  to  the  house,  in  which 
he  fitted  up  on  the  simplest  scale  a  private  observatory. 
He  obtained  permission  to  have  the  transit  instrument 
brought  down  from  the  Seeberg  and  set  up  here,  and 
with  its  help  made  the  observations  necessary  for  his 
computations.  In  his  weekly  visits  to  the  Observatory 
on  the  Seeberg  he  made  an  inspection  of  the  instruments 
there,  and  also  superintended  the  responsible  caretaker 
who  was  placed  in  charge. 

The  secluded,  solitary  life  on  the  Seeberg  and  the 
growing  size  of  her  family,  as  well  as  the  death  of  a 
seven-year-old  son,  had  given  a  serious  bent  to  my 
mother's  earnest  nature.  In  town  she  continued  to  live 
principally  for  her  husband,  children,  and  aged  parents, 
and  her  delicate  health  left  her  neither  time  nor  strength 
for  the  fulfilment  of  social  obligations,  while  my  father 
found  supreme  satisfaction  at  his  desk,  where  he  sat 
early  and  late,  working  out  with  tiny  figures  his  mathe 
matical  computations. 

His  habits  were  frugal  and  regular,  and  he  interrupted 
them  only  by  occasional  trips  for  scientific  purposes,  or 
when  guests  came  from  other  cities  to  visit  him.  For 
these  reasons  our  life  at  home  was  somewhat  monotonous 
and  lacking  in  diversions.  My  brothers  had  their  com 
rades,  and  early  developed  pronounced  talent ;  but  while 
they  could  devote  themselves  to  play  and  follow  their 


1 8  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

inborn  tastes  during  leisure  hours  because  they  were 
boys,  as  a  girl  and  the  eldest  I  was  not  so  well  off.  Accord 
ing  to  the  custom  of  those  days,  it  was  my  place  to  assist 
my  mother  in  the  household,  to  learn  knitting,  sewing, 
and  embroidery  perfectly,  and  to  acquire  only  so  much 
scholarly  knowledge  as  was  necessary  to  be  classed  among 
educated  people.  To  be  conversant  with  French  was  the 
principal  desideratum,  but  in  other  respects  the  school 
to  which  I  was  sent  was  an  antiquated  one,  which  my 
mother  had  attended  in  her  time.  The  mistress,  "  Ma'm- 
sell"  Osann,  was  an  old,  rather  intelligent,  and  peculiar 
lady;  and  a  real  " schoolmarm. "  She  always  sat  in  an 
armchair  in  the  window  corner  of  the  first  class,  whence 
her  argus  eyes  watched  every  one  of  our  movements.  A 
black  velvet  bag  was  her  constant  companion,  which  she 
opened  and  held  to  her  nose  once  in  a  while  in  order  to 
take  a  surreptitious  pinch  of  snuff.  Although  she 
endeavoured  to  keep  pace  with  the  requirements  of  the 
times,  she  never  quite  succeeded  in  doing  so,  and  the 
inadequate  school  education  which  I  received  under  her 
direction  has  always  been  a  hindrance  to  me.  A  desire 
to  know  a  great  deal,  which  I  developed  early,  was  un 
fortunately  not  fostered  by  mediocre  and  superficial 
teachers;  there  was  but  one  exception,  the  teacher  of 
history,  who  made  his  instruction  to  us  of  the  first  class 
very  interesting.  His  lessons  were  my  favourite  ones, 
and  I  was  always  able  to  answer  correctly  when  he  asked 
questions  in  review. 

In  my  thirteenth  year  my  schooling  came  to  an  end. 
I  was  then  almost  fully  grown  and  looked  older  than  I 
was,  so  that  a  new  nursemaid  thought  me  my  mother's 
sister.  In  the  same  year  I  was  confirmed  in  the  Court 


FROM   THE   SEEBERG  TO  TOWN  19 

chapel  of  Castle  Friedenstein,  and  swore  dutifully  to 
accept  articles  of  faith  which  I  did  not  comprehend.  I 
was  now  obliged  to  help  diligently  in  the  housekeeping 
and  to  assist  my  mother,  who  was  often  ill  and  over 
burdened  with  household  cares,  but  I  frankly  confess 
that  I  took  little  pleasure  in  this  occupation,  and  would 
much  rather  have  applied  myself  to  intellectual  pursuits. 
It  was  only  in  the  evening  that  I  could  take  up  a  book, 
usually  a  borrowed  one,  without  pricks  of  conscience, 
and  even  then  I  did  not  venture  to  read  unless  I  was  at 
the  same  time  busily  knitting  a  stocking.  Yet  I  was 
not  quite  without  instruction.  I  took  some  private 
lessons  in  history,  geography  and  drawing  in  company 
with  young  friends,  and  had  weekly  lessons  on  the  piano. 
But  I  had  more  talent  for  languages  than  for  music. 
When  my  eighteenth  year  approached  I  asked  for  per 
mission — which  my  father  very  readily  accorded,  over 
ruling  my  mother's  objections — to  take  part  in  private 
instruction  in  English.  Thus,  I  came  by  that  knowledge 
of  the  latter  language  which  was  destined  to  be  of  the 
utmost  importance  to  my  future.  But  all  the  rest  of  my 
attainments  were  fragmentary  and  did  me  little  good. 
Besides,  I  was  obliged  to  conceal  the  little  that  I  did 
know,  in  order  not  to  win  the  dreadful  reputation  of  a 
bluestocking. 

However,  my  life  was  not  entirely  lacking  in  pleasures, 
which  took  the  form  chiefly  of  balls  and  visits  to  the  thea 
tre.  The  latter  was  then  at  its  best.  The  company 
was  a  good  one,  and  even  included  several  first-rate  actors. 
Every  Sunday  an  opera  was  given,  and  there  were  three 
performances  a  week — a  comedy,  a  drama,  and  a  tragedy. 
In  addition,  famous  actors  from  other  theatres  often 


20  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

gave  benefit  performances.  With  the  low  prices  then 
prevailing,  even  people  of  moderate  means  were  able  to 
go  often  to  the  theatre,  and  the  latter  exerted  an  edu 
cating  and  refining  influence  on  the  public,  as  its  repre 
sentations  consisted  of  classical  plays  and  the  best  operas. 
This  made  my  taste  so  fastidious  that  in  many  other 
places,  as,  for  instance,  in  New  York,  I  could  never  again 
find  real  enjoyment  in  the  theatre. 

My  grandfather  lived  to  see  the  accession  of  Ernest  II. 
of  Saxe-Coburg-Gotha,  and  ended  his  career  as  Oberforst- 
meister  (Master  of  the  Hunt)  under  the  latter's  rule.  Ernest 
I.  died  on  January  29,  1844,  and  with  his  death  the  ancient 
regime  ended  in  our  little  principality.  Ernest  II.*  was  a 
true  representative  of  his  time.  With  the  prevision  of  a 
statesman  he  recognised  the  political  drift  of  affairs  and  was 
an  adherent  of  the  liberal  tendencies  which  culminated  in 
the  revolution  of  the  year  1848.  His  varied  attainments, 
manifold  gifts  and  clear  mind  rendered  a  hollow  court  cere 
monial  abhorrent  to  him.  He  took  pleasure  in  outward  sim 
plicity  and  in  intercourse  with  intellectually  distinguished 
people.  After  ascending  the  throne  he  continued  to 
reside  in  the  small  Palais  of  the  suburb,  in  which  he  had 
lived  since  his  marriage,  and  the  apartments  of  the  great 
quadrangular  castle  above  the  town  remained  empty 
except  on  the  occasion  of  special  festivities,  such  as  balls, 
masquerades,  or  banquets.  At  the  court  functions 
under  Ernest  I.  my  father  wore  a  dress  coat,  black  silk 
breeches  and  stockings,  low  shoes  with  gold  buckles,  and 
a  sword;  but  the  invitations  now  read,  "Dress,  a  black 
dress  suit  with  white  cravat."  This  change  was  not  at 
all  to  my  liking  at  first,  as  my  father  had  looked  so  much 

*Brother  of  Albert,  Prince  Consort  of  England. 


FROM  THE   SEEBERG  TO  TOWN  21 

handsomer  in  the  former  court  dress,  with  his  wealth 
of  silver  hair,  his  intellectual  features,  and  noble 
bearing. 

In  the  meantime  he  had  become  a  scholar  of  extended 
reputation.  As  early  as  1830  he  won  the  prize  offered 
by  the  Academy  of  Berlin  for  "  Researches  concerning 
the  reciprocal  perturbations  of  Jupiter  and  Saturn." 
Other  successful  prize  treatises  followed,  among  which  I 
mention  here  only  the  one  offered  in  the  year  1850  by 
the  Academy  of  Paris  ("  Memoir  e  sur  le  calcul  des  per 
turbations  qu'epreuvent  les  cometes"),  which  also  brought 
him  in  a  considerable  sum  of  money.  The  compendious 
manuscript,  which  fills  a  thick  quarto  volume,  was  written 
in  French. 

The  numerous  scientific  works  of  my  father  brought 
him  honours  and  decorations,  but  seldom  coin  of  the 
realm,  which  led  him  to  remark  jestingly  once,  in  allusion 
to  his  discoveries  in  the  moon:  "My  property  is  not  of 
this  world;  it  lies  in  the  moon." 

My  father's  work  was  principally  theoretical.  His 
specialty  was  mathematical  astronomy,  the  so-called 
theory  of  perturbation,  which  required  mathematical 
calculations  much  more  than  observations  of  the  sky. 
A  younger  contemporary,  the  celebrated  American 
astronomer,  Simon  Newcomb,  made  the  statement  a  few 
years  ago  :*  "  He  (Hansen)  may  now  fairly  be  considered 
the  greatest  master  of  celestial  mechanics  since  Laplace," 
a  judgment  which  I  assume  to  have  been  prompted  by 
strict  impartiality. 

The  disciples,  who  sought  him  in  Gotha,  as  Wilhelm 

* Atlantic  Monthly,  September,  1898,  "Reminiscences  of  an  Astrono 
mer,"  since  then  published  in  book  form. 


22  ON   TWO  CONTINENTS 

Scheibner,*  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of  them,  said 
in  an  obituary  notice,  "received  oral  instruction  from 
him,  which  he  gave  with  an  amiable  patience.  This 
privilege  he  refused  to  none  in  whom  he  recognised  talent 
and  ardour  for  his  science."  One  of  the  foreign  students 
was  a  young  American,  my  first  acquaintance  among  the 
countrymen  of  my  future  husband.  The  young  man 
pleased  my  parents,  and  during  the  time  that  he  worked 
under  my  father's  supervision  he  remained  under  our 
roof.  He  made  a  name  for  himself  as  the  astronomer 
Dr.  B.  A.  Gould. 

About  the  year  1850  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a 
woman  who  was  to  have  a  great  influence  on  my  mental 
development.  My  mother's  eldest  brother,  Emil  Braun, 
who  had  earned  a  reputation  as  an  archaeologist,  came 
to  Gotha  on  a  visit  to  my  grandfather,  to  introduce  his 
second  wife,  an  Englishwoman.  They  were  on  their 
way  to  Rome,  where  my  uncle  was  at  the  head  of  the 
Prussian  Archaeological  Institute.  My  aunt's  maiden 
name  was  Ann  Thomson.  She  was  a  native  of  Man 
chester,  but  had  lived  much  in  London  and  had  received 
an  excellent  education  from  her  intelligent  and  art-loving 
father,  so  that  with  her  clear  mind  and  active  intellect 
she  had  developed  into  an  unusual  woman.  She  was 
well  informed  in  all  branches  of  literature  and  fine  arts 
and  spoke  several  languages.  Liebig  did  not  consider 
it  beneath  his  dignity  to  carry  on  a  correspondence  with 
her,  and  Layard,  the  discoverer  of  Nineveh,  had  taken 
great  interest  in  her.  She  was  a  friend  of  the  Brownings, 
of  Mrs.  Jameson,  Mrs.  Gaskell,  John  Kenyon,  and  be 
longed  to  their  circle  in  London,  as  the  published  letters 

*Professor  of  Mathematics  at  the  University  of  Leipzig. 


FROM   THE   SEEBERG  TO  TOWN  23 

of  Mrs.  Browning  go  to  show.*  When  Emil  Braun 
informed  my  mother  by  letter,  in  1849,  of  his  engagement 
to  Miss  Thomson,  he  compared  her  nature  and  character 
to  that  of  Portia  in  "The  Merchant  of  Venice.'1  She 
was  of  medium  height,  with  blond  hair  and  regular, 
finely  chiselled  features.  In  years  she  was  almost  the 
equal  of  her  husband;  he  was  in  his  fortieth  year  and 
she  was  about  thirty-six.  Her  cheerfulness,  however, 
and  her  vivacity  had  kept  her  young,  and  she  earned  the 
undivided  approbation  of  the  family  as  soon  as  she 
entered  it.  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  win  her  liking 
during  her  first  visit  to  Gotha,  and  in  spite  of  the  great 
gaps  in  my  education  she  did  not  disdain  to  interest  her 
self  in  me. 

During  a  later  visit  from  her  to  my  grandfather  I  was 
indebted  to  her  for  my  first  acquaintance  with  Haw 
thorne's  "House  of  the  Seven  Gables,"  published  shortly 
before,  which,  she  told  me,  was  a  very  remarkable  book 
and  left  it  for  me  to  read.  She  also  spoke  to  me  of  Tenny 
son  and  his  poems,  which  were  entirely  unknown  to  me, 
but  she  placed  them  below  those  of  the  Brownings. 

These  years  held  my  entire  future  in  their  lap  without 
my  being  in  any  way  aware  of  it.  In  the  autumn  of  1851 
my  mother's  brother-in-law,  the  landholder  August 
Bufleb,  made  a  journey  to  the  Orient,  an  undertaking  so 
unusual  in  those  days  that  it  created  quite  an  excitement 
in  our  little  town.  At  the  same  time  my  future  husband, 
Bayard  Taylor,  was  also  on  his  way  to  Egypt.  He  and 

*In  a  letter  to  Miss  Thomson  Mrs.  Browning  addresses  her:  "You, 
who  are  a  Greek  yourself!"  This  letter  and  a  few  others  of  the 
year  1845,  published  in  "Letters  of  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning" 
(in  two  volumes),  have  reference  to  some  translations  from  the 
Greek  for  an  Anthology,  which  Miss  Thomson  was  editing  at  the 
time. 


24  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

my  uncle,  who  at  first  intended  to  travel  in  Palestine,  but 
was  induced  by  the  Prussian  Minister  at  Constantinople 
to  make  the  trip  to  Alexandria,  met  on  the  steamer 
which  ran  from  Smyrna  to  the  latter  port.  Both  travellers, 
the  German  and  the  American,  although  far  removed  in 
age,  felt  attracted  to  each  other  at  once,  and  formed  a 
friendship  which  lasted  as  long  as  they  lived.  Arrived 
at  Cairo,  they  hired  a  dahabiveh  together  for  the  Nile 
trip,  and  started  on  November  lyth.  On  December  ist 
my  uncle  wrote  to  his  wife,  my  aunt : 

"One  evening  is  as  beautiful  as  another,  but  none 
resembles  its  predecessor.'  It  is  impossible  to  withstand 
the  sweet  magic  of  this  landscape;  peace,  heavenly 
quietude  takes  possession  of  the  sympathetic  heart,  and 
beautifies,  ennobles  life.  Every  such  evening  finds  my 
comrade  and  myself  on  deck,  thinking  with  loving  hearts 
of  our  absent  dear  ones,  and  the  bonds  of  friendship  are 
drawn  closer  and  closer  by  the  rare  harmony  of  our  habits 
of  thought  and  action.  We  travelling  companions  avoid 
speaking  of  the  time  when  one  of  us  will  be  going  through 
the  Nubian  Desert  to  Sennahar,  and  the  other  returning 
alone  on  the  boat  to  Cairo." 

On  December  i6th  the  day  of  separation  and  sorrowful 
farewells  dawned.  But  Bayard  Taylor  had  already  given 
his  promise  to  his  friend  to  visit  him  in  Gotha  after  finish 
ing  his  travels  in  the  Orient.  On  his  return  my  uncle 
never  tired  of  talking  of  his  young  American  travelling 
companion,  and  thus  wre  learned  that  he  was  seeking  to 
recover  in  foreign  countries  from  the  deep  wound  which 
fate  had  dealt  him  in  the  loss  of  his  first  love,  to  whom  he 
had  been  wedded  on  her  deathbed.  We  were  all  anxious 


FROM  THE  SEEBERG  TO  TOWN     25 

to  make  the  young  man's  acquaintance,  and  when  in 
September,  1852,  he  came  in  fulfilment  of  his  promise  the 
houses  of  the  family  in  all  its  branches  were  opened  to  wel 
come  him  in  the  most  hospitable  manner,  and  even  in 
more  remote  circles  the  appearance  of  this  much-travelled 
stranger  created  a  sensation.  All  who  came  in  contact 
with  him  were  attracted  toward  him,  and  he,  for  his 
part,  in  spite  of  the  inherited  reserve  of  his  nature,  was 
warm  in  praise  of  German  Gemuthlichkeit.  This  quality 
was  even  inherent  in  his  own  blood,  as  the  ancestors  of  both 
his  grandmothers  had  been  German  colonists.  He  was 
at  that  time  twenty-seven  years  old,  his  tall  figure  was 
still  slender,  his  oval  face  deeply  browned  by  the  sun  of 
the  Orient.  He  gave  the  impression  of  an  unusual, 
unspoiled,  good  and  noble  man,  and  thus  he  remained 
in  my  memory.  I  knew  him  but  slightly  at  that  time, 
as  I  met  him  only  at  the  various  dinners  which  were  given 
in  his  honour  by  the  family.  That  he  would  be  my  future 
husband  did  not  enter  my  mind ;  nor  did  I  seem  to  make 
any  deep  impression  upon  him. 


CHAPTER  III 
IN  ROME 

A  YEAR  later  I  made  my  pilgrimage  to  Rome,  which 
was  a  turning  point  in  my  life.  Ever  since  the  beginning 
of  1853  there  had  been  some  talk  of  my  complying  with 
the  wish  of  my  uncle  and  aunt,  who  were  living  there,  to 
spend  some  time  with  them.  I  had  been  in  correspon 
dence  with  my  aunt  for  some  time,  and  so  I  was  informed 
of  the  interesting  life  which  awaited  me  in  her  home,  and 
I  was  full  of  the  anticipation  of  taking  part  in  it.  It 
sounded  so  enticing  when  she  wrote:  "Emil  is  now 
giving  two  German  lectures  and  one  in  English  every 
week.  The  German  lectures  are  for  the  young  artists  and 
students  of  Rome,  but  are  public,  and  diligently  attended 
by  many  ladies  and  gentlemen.  Sometimes  we  leave  the 
lecture-room  and  go  down  into  the  forum,  or  to  some 
other  place  where  antiquities  are  to  be  discanted  upon, 
and  have  the  lecture  in  the  presence  of  the  ruins  of  old 
Rome."  Then  again  Aunt  Ann  wrote:  "About  six 
weeks  ago  we  had  quite  a  brilliant  singing  evening,  and 
last  week  an  instrumental  performance  of  Beethoven's 
trios,  when  de  Witt,  our  invalid,  played  divinely  with  two 
Italians:  violin  and  violoncello.  It  went  off  so  well  that 
several  persons  have  since  begged  for  invitations  for  the 
next  time,  and  Madame  Henzen  said  to  me,  it  was 
'  etwas  Grosses  solche  Musik  im  Hause  zu  haben'  [a  great 
thing  to  have  such  music  at  home]." 

26 


IN   ROME  27 

Finally,  in  the  autumn  of  1853,  an  acceptable  travelling 
companion  was  found  for  me,  and  I  bade  adieu  to  my 
dear  ones  at  home.  Under  the  protection  of  a  friend 
of  the  family  I  travelled  by  way  of  Vienna,  Venice  and 
Florence.  I  had  letters  commending  me  to  the  care  of 
acquaintances  in  each  of  these  cities,  and  stopped  long 
enough  to  see  the  sights  before  proceeding  to  Rome, 
where  I  arrived  on  December  3d.  It  was  night  when 
the  mail  coach  drove  through  the  gate  into  the  Piazza 
del  Popolo,  and  darkness  covered  the  Capitol  as  I  climbed 
to  the  Monte  Caprino,*  where  stood  the  house  in  which 
I  was  to  dwell,  the  Casa  Tarpeia,  close  to  the  Tarpeian 
Rock.  A  stairway  of  stone,  with  more  than  eighty  steps, 
communicated  with  the  upper  floor  on  which  were  the 
apartments  of  my  relatives.  I  was  very  tired,  but  sleep 
was  long  in  coming  that  night. 

The  following  morning,  to  which  I  had  looked  forward 
with  pleasant  anticipation,  brought  me  a  disappointment, 
as  the  first  few  days  of  their  stay  have  done  to  so  many 
visitors  in  Rome — perhaps  in  order  that  later  they  may 
be  the  more  securely  caught  in  the  bonds  of  the  enchant 
ress.  It  was  the  darkest  month  of  the  entire  Roman 
year ;  a  gray  blanket  of  clouds  covered  the  city  and  the 
Campagna,  and  veiled  the  distant  mountains.  In  such 
an  atmosphere  the  gray  ancient  ruins  which  I  saw  from 
the  window  did  not  look  very  promising,  and  the  crowded 
masses  of  low  houses  between  them  did  not  seem  particu 
larly  interesting  to  one  who  could  not  disentangle  them. 
For  our  lodging  was  situated  principally  on  the  south 
side  of  the  building,  whence  from  the  Saal  (which  was  the 
sitting-room  and  at  the  same  time  my  aunt's  drawing- 

*The  name  applied  to  the  southwestern  portion  of  the  Capitoline  Hill. 


28  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

room)  and  from  the  adjoining  loggia  ancient  Rome  lay 
spread  in  a  wide  semi-circle  at  our  feet. 

The  unfavourable  weather  gave  me  leisure  to  grow 
acquainted  with  my  new  home.  The  rooms  were  filled 
with  books,  pictures  of  the  old  masters,  and  fragments  of 
ancient  sculpture.  These  formed  the  background  of  the 
comfortable  English  home  which  the  taste  of  my  aunt 
had  created.  The  family  circle  into  which  I  was  ad 
mitted  consisted  of  five  persons :  my  uncle  and  aunt,  my 
eighteen-year-old  brother,  who  had  come  to  Rome  in  the 
previous  year,  Miss  Cannan,  a  Scotch  lady,  and  the 
young  musician,  Theodore  de  Witt,  whom  my  aunt  in  her 
letters  called  her  "  invalid."  To  depict  accurately  the 
individuality  of  my  uncle,  Emil  Braun,  that  rarely 
gifted  and  personally  attractive  man,  is  more  than  my 
pen  is  capable  of.  He  possessed  a  tall,  slender  figure, 
crowned  by  an  almost  ideal  head.  He  stands  before  me 
now  with  the  finely  cut  features  of  his  thin,  pale  face, 
lighted  up  by  a  spiritual  expression,  kindness  of  heart 
and  profound  thoughtfulness  showing  in  the  glance  of  the 
blue  eyes,  and  with  his  long  ash-blond  locks  combed 
back  from  a  broad  brow.  As  First  Secretary  and  for  many 
years  Director  of  the  German  Archaeological  Institute 
on  the  Capitol,  he  was  rooted  fast  in  the  Eternal  City, 
and  was  well  known  and  wrell  beloved  not  only  among 
Italians,  but  also  by  his  own  countrymen  and  dis 
tinguished  visitors  in  Rome.  Mrs.  Browning  thus 
speaks  of  him  in  a  letter  to  Miss  Mitford,  of  January  9, 
1850: 

"Charmed,  too,  we  both  were  with  Dr.  Braun — I 
mean  Robert  and  I  were  charmed.  He  has  a  mixture  of 
fervour  and  simplicity  which  is  still  more  delightfully 


IN   ROME  29 

picturesque  in  his  foreign  English.  Oh,  he  speaks 
English  perfectly,  only  with  an  obvious  accent  enough ! "  * 

My  uncle  was  an  extremely  busy  man;  often  we  saw 
him  only  at  the  two  principal  meals,  but  he  always  had 
something  new  or  interesting  to  tell  us,  and  his  conversa 
tion  was  full  of  sparkling  humour  and  wit. 

The  Scotch  lady  had  come  to  Rome  in  the  previous 
year  in  order  to  make,  under  the  supervision  of  my 
aunt,  an  English  translation  of  Emil  Braun's  latest 
work,  "The  Ruins  and  Museums  of  Rome."  Regularly 
every  morning  the  two  ladies  sat  at  their  writing  desks  in 
the  Saal,  occupied  with  their  task.  My  brother,  who  had 
previously  studied  art  in  Dresden,  was  continuing  his 
studies  in  Rome  and  only  occasionally  found  time  to  de 
vote  himself  to  me;  de  Witt,  finally,  was  equally  fitted 
with  my  uncle  and  aunt  to  attract  the  attention  of  those 
who  came  in  contact  with  him.  He  had  been  in  Rome 
since  1850,  whither  he  had  come  partly  on  account  of 
his  health,  weakened  by  protracted  study,  partly  led  by 
the  desire  to  study  ancient  music,  especially  that  of 
Palestrina,  at  its  source.  The  means  for  his  Roman 
sojourn  were  given  by  the  King  of  Prussia  at  the  inter 
cession  of  Meyerbeer  (who  had  accidentally  become 
acquainted  with  an  early  composition  of  de  Witt's)  and 
of  the  musical  Court  Chamberlain,  Baron  von  Dachroden. 
For  a  year  past  he  had  occupied  two  rooms  communica 
ting  with  Doctor  Braun's  apartments,  and  the  bonds  of 
friendship  which  united  him  with  the  latter  and  his  wife 
were  more  closely  drawn.  The  wasting  disease  of  which  he 
was  a  victim  had  not  been  checked  in  a  southern  climate ; 

*"The  Letters  of  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning,"  New  York,  1897, 
Vol.  I,  page  431. 


30  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

it  had  continued  its  ravages,  and  his  hollow  cheeks  and 
pallid  face  showed  only  too  plainly  what  would  be  the 
fate  of  this  young  genius.  At  the  time  I  came  to  Rome 
he  was  occupied  with  a  critical  edition  of  the  Moieties  of 
Pales trina,  and  in  the  course  of  time  I  learned  that  he 
succeeded,  in  spite  of  obstacles  of  various  kinds,  in 
getting  into  his  hands  all  the  remnants  of  that  immortal 
music,  which  were  scattered  among  the  libraries  of 
Rome,  and  thus  in  saving  much  that  was  threatened 
with  destruction. 

At  home  there  had  been  no  lack  of  intellectual  interests, 
on  account  of  our  acquaintance  with  learned  men  and 
other  well-known  and  cultured  people,  but  these  interests 
had  always  been  more  or  less  one  sided,  and  the  aesthetic 
half  of  my  nature  had  hitherto  remained  undeveloped. 
The  benignant  fate  which  took  me  to  Rome  and  into  the 
surroundings  which  I  found  there  is  responsible  for  the 
growth  in  me,  as  far  as  natural  gifts  and  capacity  made  it 
possible,  of  that  ideal  of  the  beautiful  which  had  previously 
floated  but  dimly  before  my  vision.  The  disappointing 
impression  of  my  first  view  of  old  Rome  was  dissipated 
by  the  rays  of  the  sun,  beneath  whose  radiant  light  I 
beheld  the  panorama  from  the  flat  roof  of  the  Casa 
Tarpeia.  In  a  great  circle  the  city  lies  spread  out  from 
the  Esquiline  Hill  to  the  Coliseum ;  in  the  background  the 
chain  of  the  Sabine  Mountains  and  that  of  Albano ;  then 
in  the  foreground  the  picturesque  Aventine,  with  the 
Tiber  at  its  foot — beyond,  the  Janiculum,  the  dome  of 
St.  Peter's,  and  to  the  north  the  impressive  outlines  of 
Soracte.  Where  in  the  whole  world  could  one  find 
another  view  like  this! 

Down  from  the  Monte  Caprino  a  grand  flight  of  stairs 


IN   ROME  31 

leads  to  the  Piazza,  of  the  Capitol  and  thence  the  Capi- 
toline  stairway  extends  into  the  city  below.  Narrow, 
crooked  streets,  where  one  picture  follows  another,  lead 
to  the  Corso,  where  we  again  step  into  the  modern  world. 
But  the  strait  and  dirty  alleys  where  the  people  lived, 
with  here  and  there  an  old  palazzo,  were  my  favourites. 
There  one  saw  a  Rome  which  no  longer  exists  to-day. 
The  papal  Rome  of  those  days  was  still  pretty  much  the 
same  Rome  in  which  Goethe  had  felt  so  happy.  After 
the  political  regeneration  of  Italy  and  of  Rome  a  wealth  of 
poetical  associations  and  of  artistic  beauty  disappeared 
forever.  Those  walking  Caryatids,  the  Italian  women 
of  the  people,  still  wore  their  picturesque  costumes,  and 
in  the  Piazza  Montenara,  where  Goethe  had  supped,  the 
campagnuoli  could  be  seen  daily  in  their  short  jackets, 
red  vests,  and  gay  belts.  Not  far  from  the  Corso,  around 
some  splashing  fountain,  you  might  see  a  goatherd  camped 
with  his  bearded  charge,  keeping  his  noonday  siesta,  and 
numerous  monks  and  priestly  processions  added  variety 
to  the  daily  panorama. 

Among  the  mass  of  new  impressions  which  were  crowd 
ing  upon  me  the  deepest  and  most  lasting  was  that 
which  the  sight  of  antique  art  exerted  upon  me.  Even 
at  my  first  visit,  by  the  side  of  my  classically  educated 
aunt,  to  the  Vatican  Museum,  a  new  world  was  opened 
to  me — the  realm  of  "pure  form,"  or,  to  quote  the 
words  of  Goethe,  "the  highest  that  is  left  to  us  of  the 
antique  world,  the  statues."  My  first  delight  was 
overpowering,  but  the  continued  guidance  of  such  teachers 
as  Emil  arid  Ann  Braun  was  necessary,  in  order  that  my 
originally  superficial  enjoyment  of  the  antique  should 
become  part  and  parcel  of  my  being  and  remain  a  pos- 


32  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

session  for  my  whole  life.  Besides  visiting  the  museums, 
we  frequented  the  splendid  picture  galleries  among 
which  that  in  the  Palazzo  Sciarra,  now  no  longer  in 
existence,  although  small,  contained  some  unique  master 
pieces.  But  great  as  was  my  enjoyment  of  the  masters 
of  colour,  it  always  remained  secondary  to  my  delight  in 
antique  sculpture.  To  such  an  extent  was  this  true  that 
in  later  years  my  husband  made  the  remark  that  the 
sense  of  colour  was  subordinate  in  my  nature  to  the 
sense  of  form. 

Before  I  entered  the  Vatican  I  was  taken  to  St. 
Peter's,  but  the  church  made  less  of  an  impression  of 
grandeur  upon  me  than  did  the  Piazza  outside  with  its 
obelisk,  fountains,  and  surrounding  colonnades.  The 
enormous  dimensions  and  wonderfully  harmonious  pro 
portions  of  the  interior  of  the  church  make  it  impossible 
for  the  eye  to  find  at  once  the  correct  standard  of  measure 
ment.  A  whole  year  later,  on  the  occasion  of  the  procla 
mation  by  Pius  IX.  of  the  Immaculate  Conception  of  the 
Virgin  Mary,  I  recognised  for  the  first  time  after  repeated 
visits  what  a  wondrous  building,  incomparably  grand  in 
architecture,  the  church  of  St.  Peter  is.  It  was  late 
when  my  uncle,  who  accompanied  me,  started  from  home, 
and  the  solemn  function  had  begun  before  our  entrance. 
The  nave  and  the  aisles  were  closely  packed  by  a  countless 
multitude  of  worshipers;  only  the  space  between  the 
portals  and  the  first  colossal  columns  was  empty,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  persons  scattered  here  and  there. 
Beyond,  the  people  stood  like  a  wall,  head  behind  head, 
a  crowd  composed  in  great  part  of  the  contadini  from  the 
Campagna  and  from  the  distant  mountains,  all  in  their 
many-hued,  distinct  costumes.  Far  behind  this  compact 


IN   ROME  33 

throng  rose  the  high  altar,  where  the  papal  proclamation 
was  being  delivered,  so  distant  that  only  a  faint  murmur 
now  and  again,  a  few  tones  of  the  proclamation  or  of  the 
singing  reached  our  ears.  Thus,  the  immense  size  of  the 
interior  was  brought  home  to  me,  and  I  understood  the 
glorious  idea  of  Bramante,  which  Michelangelo  afterward 
carried  out  —  to  portray  the  unlimited  might  of  the 
Papal  Church  in  the  plan  of  this,  the  greatest  temple  of 
Catholic  Christendom. 

Besides  the  educational  influence  which  surrounded  me 
in  Rome  there  was  no  dearth  of  social  pleasures.  My 
relatives  were  on  a  footing  of  acquaintance  or  friendship 
with  the  best  members  of  the  foreign  colony,  English  as 
well  as  German,  who  every  winter  came  to  live  in  the 
Eternal  City.  Among  the  former  were  the  Brownings - 
Both  were  in  the  years  of  their  highest  productiveness: 
they  stood  at  the  acme  of  their  creative  activity  and  of 
their  fame.  Robert  Browning  could  be  called  a  hand 
some  man  at  that  time.  When  I  saw  him  again  in  1867 
his  thick  dark-brown  hair  was  blanched,  his  heavy 
whiskers  had  disappeared,  and  of  his  former  beauty  all 
that  remained  was  the  spiritual  impress  01  his  strongly 
marked  features.  In  contrast  to  the  robust  virility  of 
her  husband  was  the  small,  slender  figure  and  delicate 
appearance  of  Mrs.  Browning.  But  in  her  eyes  glowed 
the  same  deep  fire  as  in  his,  only  in  hers  it  seemed  more 
concentrated,  as  her  black  hair,  hanging  down  in  long 
curls,  so  framed  her  pale,  haggard  face  that  her  dark 
eyes  seemed  to  be  the  only  feature  visible.  Browning 
counted  himself  happy  to  be  in  Rome,  "a  country,"  he 
said,  picking  up  a  clay  vessel  filled  with  water  for  evapo 
ration  which  stood  on  the  iron  stove,  "where  you  find 


34  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

utensils  of  this  form  and  colour  in  daily  use  among  the 
people!" 

The  last  time  that  I  met  the  wedded  poets  was  on  the 
occasion  of  a  morning  concert  in  our  salon.  The  young 
Prussian  Prince  Friedrich  Wilhelm  (afterward  Emperor 
Frederick)  made  a  short  stay  in  Rome  in  the  winter  of 
1854 ;  his  attention  had  been  directed  by  the  then  Prussian 
Charge  d'Affaires,  Harry  von  Arnim,  to  de  Witt,  and  he 
expressed  a  wish  to  hear  the  young  musician  play  upon 
the  piano.  This  gave  the  motive  for  the  concert  at  which 
the  Prince  appeared  with  his  suite,  and  where  a  small 
company  of  distinguished  guests,  among  them  the  Brown 
ings,  awaited  him.  The  Prince  was  then  a  handsome 
blond  youth  of  twenty-two,  with  an  agreeable  presence. 
His  modest  demeanour  created  a  favourable  impression 
upon  everyone.  When  my  uncle,  who  was  the  Prince's 
cicerone,  was  questioned  about  the  future  heir  to  the 
throne,  his  sagacious  judgment  was  that  the  youthful 
mind  of  the  Prince  was  open  to  all  good  influences,  and 
that  it  was  to  be  hoped  that  his  surroundings  would 
always  remain  in  accord  with  such  influences. 

In  the  course  of  my  first  Roman  winter  I  had  gradually 
learned  to  know  Rome  and  its  nearer  surroundings  so 
well,  together  with  all  that  the  Eternal  City  offered  of 
artistic  and  natural  beauty,  and  manifold  other  pleasures 
and  sights,  that  before  a  year  had  passed  I  was  completely 
enmeshed  in  her  enchanted  web,  and  the  thought  that 
I  must  soon  set  my  face  toward  the  north  weighed 
heavily  upon  me.  My  joy  was  therefore  great  when  my 
parents,  at  the  request  of  my  uncle  and  aunt,  gave  me 
permission  for  a  longer  stay  in  Rome.  This  was  in  May. 
He  who  has  never  spent  that  exquisite  month  in  Rome 


IN   ROME  35 

knows  not  how  beautiful  she  is.  The  gray  masonry  of  the 
ruins,  on  which  the  nimble  lizards  have  hitherto  sunned 
themselves,  are  covered  as  if  by  enchantment  with  green 
blossoming  vines,  the  villas  are  gardens  of  roses  in  which 
nightingales  sing,  luxuriant  vegetation  is  everywhere,  and 
even  the  desolate  width  of  the  Campagna  is  decked  with 
fresh  verdure.  Nevertheless  our  plans  were  made  betimes 
to  leave  the  city  for  the  country  toward  the  end  of  June. 
The  Scotch  lady  had  left  us  in  the  spring ;  my  uncle,  who 
had  always  defied  the  summer  in  the  Eternal  City,  was 
unwilling  to  leave,  and  my  brother  preferred  to  ac 
company  a  student  friend  to  Subiaco.  So  it  happened  that 
my  aunt  went  with  de  Witt,  her  "invalid,"  and  me  into 
the  Apennines,  wrhere  a  small  place — San  Gemini  near 
Terni — had  been  recommended  to  us.  A  veturino  took 
us,  after  a  two  days'  journey,  to  the  foot  of  the  steep 
hill  on  whose  summit  rose  the  gray  walls  of  the  little 
town,  and  after  a  hot  drive  the  ancient  gate  received  us 
into  its  grateful  shade. 

We  were  the  first  foreigners  who  had  entered  here 
within  the  memory  of  man,  so  that  we  created  no  little 
excitement  until  we  finally  reached  a  large  stone  house 
in  a  narrow  alley,  where  lodgings  had  been  engaged  for  us. 
In  this  spot,  surrounded  by  fertile  vineyards  and  fields, 
with  a  view  of  picturesque  mountain  scenery  dominated 
by  the  lofty  snowcapped  summit  of  a  towering  peak,  we 
remained  for  three  full  months,  which  were  diversified 
by  various  peculiar  experiences  and  events.  Among 
them  was  our  acquaintance  with  scorpions,  of  a  small 
variety,  it  is  true,  and  said  to  be  harmless  unless  angered, 
but  nevertheless  unpleasant.  In  order  to  prove  the  fact 
which  we  had  formerly  heard  stated,  that  the  scorpion 


36  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

commits  suicide  when  he  finds  himself  in  danger  from 
which  he  cannot  escape,  we  caught  one  of  these  little 
creatures  and  put  it  in  a  paper  bag.  Then  we  placed 
pieces  of  red-hot  coal  in  a  circle  about  a  yard  in  diameter 
on  the  stone  floor  of  the  kitchen,  and  let  the  scorpion 
out  of  his  prison  into  the  middle  of  it.  He  ran  in  all 
directions  in  his  terror,  and  finding  no  way  of  escape 
he  swiftly  raised  and  bent  back  his  tail,  inserted  the  sting 
in  his  own  neck  and  fell  over,  dead.  If  I  had  not  seen 
the  occurrence  with  my  own  eyes  I  should  still  believe 
it  to  be  a  fable. 

After  these  real  Italian  summer  months  we  returned 
to  Rome,  where  long-missed  artistic  pleasures  awaited 
us.  As  no  piano  was  to  be  found  in  all  San  Gemini,  we 
had  been  sadly  deprived  of  music,  and  now  enjoyed  all  the 
more  de  Witt's  glorious  playing  on  my  aunt's  grand 
piano  and  the  concerts  which  were  given  in  the  course 
of  the  winter.  Thus,  I  had  the  privilege  of  hearing  Mrs. 
Sartoris  (the  famous  Miss  Kemble)  and  the  celebrated 
Barisotti  sing  for  a  charitable  purpose;  but  a  concert 
given  by  Formaggi,  the  organist  of  St.  Peter's,  made  the 
deepest  impression  upon  me — a  concert  in  which  only 
ecclesiastical  music  was  on  the  programme,  among  others 
the  "O  bene  Jesus"  of  Palestrina,  sung  a  capella,  and  a 
" Santo  Santo"  for  six  voices  by  Theodore  de  Witt.  The 
latter  was  acquainted  with  all  the  Italian  musicians  of 
note  then  in  Rome,  and  we  often  saw  them,  playing  or 
conversing,  in  the  salon  of  my  aunt.  Other  Italians  also 
came  and  went,  and  I  thus  had  occasion  to  educate  my 
ear  for  the  best  Italian :  "  lingua  toscana  in  bocca  romana." 

Besides  the  old  acquaintances  of  the  previous  winter, 
which  we  renewed,  we  made  some  interesting  additional 


IN   ROME  37 

ones.  Among  them  Wolf  von  Goethe,  attached  to  the 
German  Legation,  a  tall  man,  no  longer  young,  whose 
features  had  a  slight  resemblance  to  those  of  his  grand 
father.  He  had  a  noble  manner,  with  an  aristocratic  turn 
of  mind,  and  was  rather  blase.  Another  reminiscence 
of  Goethe's  time  was  furnished  in  the  person  of  a  little 
brunette  lady  of  forty,  a  granddaughter  of  Werther's 
Lotte.  Miss  Kestner  was  a  simple,  amiable,  and  cultivated 
lady,  whose  round  face,  red  cheeks,  and  bright,  dark 
eyes  left  a  lasting  picture  in  my  mind. 

The  winter  passed  like  its  predecessor  with  manifold 
interests,  foremost  among  which  were  the  frequent  visits 
to  the  art  collections,  with  Doctor  Braun's  "  Ruins  and 
Museums  of  Rome"*  as  an  intellectual  guide,  until  finally 
the  short  beautiful  spring  set  in,  followed  immediately 
by  a  scirocco  temperature,  which  forced  us  into  ville- 
giatura.  This  time  we  sought  the  nearby  Alban  Moun 
tains,  where  we  found  an  airy  lodging  in  the  Villa  Picco- 
lomini,  in  Frascati.  One  day  during  a  drive  through  the 
Campagna  a  merry  adventure  happened  to  me.  I  was 
going  to  Rome  to  do  some  errands  and  for  this  purpose 
made  use  of  the  daily  vetturino.  In  the  narrow  rattling 
vehicle  I  sat  with  an  old  campagnuole  and  his  two  sons, 
who  were  also  going  to  Rome.  The  latter  were  bright 
young  fellows,  and  they  as  well  as  the  old  man,  like  all 
Italians  of  the  lower  class,  behaved  with  inborn  politeness. 
At  the  same  time  the  Italian  peasants  are  true  children  of 
nature  (at  least,  they  were  so  then),  confiding,  open- 

*Mrs.  Browning  wrote  to  Mrs.  Braun  under  date  of  May  13,  1855: 
"lam  only  sorry  I  did  not  get  to  Rome  after  the  book:  it  would  have 
helped  my  pleasure  so,  holding  up  the  lanthorn  in  dark  places.  So 
much  suggestiveness  in  combination  with  so  much  specific  information 
makes  a  book  (or  a  man)  worth  knowing." — "The  Letters  of  Elizabeth 
Barrett  Browning,"  New  York,  1897,  Vol.  II,  page  195. 


38  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

hearted,  without  timidity,  and  I  enjoyed  talking  to  them. 
The  old  man  addressed  me  as  g-iovanotta  and  all  three  said 
tu  to  me.  I  had  to  tell  them  where  my  home  was,  then 
they  questioned  further:  If  it  was  distant  twenty 
miglie?  "Oh,  no,"  said  I,  "it  is  farther  than  a  hundred, 
yes,  farther  than  two  hundred  miles,"  whereupon  the  old 
man  opened  his  eyes  wide  and  asked,  "Is  it  farther  than 
Napoli?" 

The  more  the  summer  waned  and  autumn  drew  near 
the  more  I  was  weighed  down  by  the  thought  of  my 
approaching  separation  from  Rome  and  its  enchanted 
soil,  which  was  scarcely  diminished  by  the  joyful  expecta 
tion  of  seeing  my  family  and  friends  again.  I  believed 
I  had  found  in  Italy  the  home  of  my  soul,  and  much  as 
I  felt  drawn  toward  parents,  brothers,  and  sisters  it 
was  a  dreary  prospect  to  have  to  accustom  myself  again 
to  the  narrow  horizon  and  the  small  interests  of  my 
native  town.  In  the  month  of  October  came  the  dreaded 
day  when  I  bade  farewell  to  the  Eternal  City.  I  took 
with  me,  at  the  request  of  de  Witt,  the  portion  of  his 
score  of  Palestrina  which  was  ready  for  the  printer, 
with  the  commission  to  send  it  to  a  publisher  in  Mann 
heim,  who  had  shortly  before  made  satisfactory  offers 
for  the  publication  of  the  work.  Three  volumes  of  it 
were  ready  for  the  press  when  the  talented  musician 
succumbed  to  his  illness  in  December,  1855.  In  the  sum 
mer  of  the  following  year  my  uncle,  Emil  Braun,  died  of 
the  perniciosa,  the  worst  form  of  Roman  fever,  and  in  the 
ensuing  winter  my  brother,  the  artist,  died  in  Munich. 
As  Miss  Cannan  wrote  to  me  from  Scotland  shortly  after 
ward,  "Death  has  made  sad  havoc  in  the  Casa  Tarpeia!" 


W 

en  C 

OQ  O 

O  . 


H 


CHAPTER  IV 
RETURN  TO  GOTHA 

THERE  was  joy  in  my  parents'  house  when  I  arrived, 
and  joy  entered  into  my  heart  also.  Many  changes  had 
occurred  during  my  absence.  Grandfather  had  departed 
this  life  and  my  younger  sister  had  become  engaged  to 
a  young  Curlander,  August  Wagner,  who  held  a  position 
in  the  Observatory  at  Pulkowa,  near  St.  Petersburg. 

An  event  of  very  great  importance  was  the  removal 
of  the  Observatory  from  the  Seeberg  to  the  town  of  Gotha. 
This  change  had  been  mooted  and  deliberated  upon  since 
the  year  1850 ;  now  my  father  had  at  last  secured  the  con 
cession  from  the  Government  and  the  Assembly,  and  at 
the  time  of  my  return  work  was  begun  upon  the  new 
building.  The  stones  for  the  latter  were  furnished  by 
the  sandstone  blocks  of  the  old  structure,  which  were 
rehewn  and  thus  regained  their  original  handsome 
deep-yellow  colour.  The  location  chosen  was  the  site 
of  the  old  disused  Court  smithy  at  the  lower,  southern 
end  of  the  Jagerstrasse,  beside  the  Leina*  Canal  and 
close  to  the  public  park,  with  a  fine  view  of  the  Thuringian 
Mountains.  The  building  was  near  to  our  house  and  was 
a  constant  attraction  to  my  father,  who  visited  it  several 
times  a  day,  even  during  the  earliest  and  roughest  stages 
of  construction. 

*An  artificial  brook  laid  out  by  the  monk  Bonifacius  in  the  twelfth 
century,  by  which  water  was  conducted  from  the  mountains  to  the 
arid  town  of  Gotha. 

39 


40  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

It  would  seem  that  during  the  two  years  that  I  had  been 
away  from  my  family  a  noticeable  change  had  occurred 
within  me.  My  intellectual  horizon  was  broader,  my 
character  had  become  firmer,  and  my  parents  seemed 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  to  take  this  fact  into  con 
sideration  by  no  longer  treating  me  like  a  child,  although 
such  was  in  those  days  the  customary  treatment  accorded 
to  daughters  even  older  than  I  was.  Freely  and  openly, 
as  I  had  never  ventured  to  do  before,  I  joined  in  the 
conversations  in  which  my  father  indulged  during  meals 
and  in  the  short  pauses  for  rest,  which  he  allowed  himself 
several  times  during  the  day  away  from  his  desk.  Almost 
uninterrupted  mental  work  and  healthy  sleep  were  neces 
sities  to  him — a  severely  regular,  simple  mode  of  life,  and 
these  talks  seemed  to  be  the  only  relaxation  he  required. 

When  in  the  year  1856  a  pamphlet  was  published  on  the 
"Life  and  Works  of  Gaus"*  its  contents  recalled  a  num 
ber  of  incidents.  Among  other  things  it  mentioned  that 
this  eminent  scientist  had  taught  himself  to  read;  "but 
so  did  I,"  added  my  father.  Then  he  continued:  "  I  once 
scored  a  point  over  Gaus,  as  perhaps  no  one  else  ever 
did.  I  was  calling  on  him  in  Gottingen  and  during  our 
talk  I  spoke  of  the  influence  of  refraction  upon  eclipses 
and  occultations.  I  noticed  immediately  that  the 
existence  of  such  an  influence  was  quite  unknown  to  him, 
because  he  quickly  changed  the  subject,  as  he  was  used 
to  do  whenever  any  topic  was  disagreeable  to  him."  He 
also  told  us  of  the  fact  that  Gaus  did  not  begin  to  memor 
ise  his  logarithms  until  he  had  found  out  that  he  (Hansen) 
knew  them  by  heart.f 

*Karl  Friedrich  Gauss,  the  celebrated  astronomer  ot  Gottingen; 
died  1855. 

fFrom  an  old  diary. 


RETURN   TO   GOTH  A  41 

Another  time  he  told  us  a  neat  anecdote  of  his  (Danish) 
countryman,  Oehlenschlager,  with  whom  he  was  ac 
quainted  in  his  youth  in  Copenhagen.  An  insignificant 
young  man  who  had  been  introduced  to  the  author 
asked  if  he  might  call  upon  him  at  his  lodging,  and  what 
was  the  address.  Whereupon  the  latter  made  answer, 

"  I  live  at  390 Street."  "  Oh,"  said  the  young  man, 

"how  can  I  ever  remember  the  number?"  "Easily," 
replied  Oehlenschlager;  "you  need  only  think  of  the 
Graces,  the  Muses,  and  yourself." 

The  time  now  approached  when  Bayard  Taylor  came 
again  to  Gotha.  It  was  the  summer  of  1856.  A  year 
before  he  had  announced  this  visit  to  my  relatives, 
August  Bufleb  and  his  wife,  and  when  my  uncle  wrote 
to  express  his  pleasure  at  the  prospect  his  letter  continued 
as  follows: 

"A  short  time  ago  I  bought  the  property  next  to  my 
estate,  a  garden  with  a  little  modest  house.  This  cot 
tage  shall  shelter  Taylor,  when  next  year  he  keeps  his 
word  and  conies  to  visit  us.  All  arrangements  are  being 
made  with  this  end  in  view ;  the  upper  half  of  the  garden — 
a  real  French  design  of  the  last  century  with  statues  and 
fountain,  dark  beech  alleys  and  trimmed  box — is  put  in 
order  and  awaits  our  distant  friend;  a  smaller  cot,  near 
the  fountain,  is  encased  in  bark  and  will  serve  as  a  bath 
house.  The  lower  portion  of  the  garden,  a  grove  with 
fine  large  trees,  containing  a  few  acres,  will  refresh  you 
with  its  shade  and  hopes  to  afford  you  a  secret  shrine 
of  nature.  The  little  parlour  in  the  garden  house  will 
assemble  us  around  you  as  often  as  you  please.  Thus, 
my  dear  Taylor,  I  have  written  my  letters  to  you  and 
therefore,  in  spite  of  distance  and  long  separation,  you* 


42  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

heart  could  not  give  you  news  of  any  change  in  my  feel 
ings  or  thoughts.  On  the  contrary,  the  coincidence  of 
our  mutual  harmony  of  thought  possesses  to  my  mind 
something  truly  touching;  while  you  were  dedicating 
your  excellent  work  on  Central  Africa,  your  innermost 
ego,  to  me,  I  was  beautifying  the  choicest  part  of  my 
estate  for  you!" 


Bayard  Taylor  had  returned  home  from  his  travels  in 
the  Orient  late  in  the  year  1853,  and  had  published  his 
three  volumes,  " Africa,"  "The  Lands  of  the  Saracens" 
and  "  India,  China,  and  Japan. "  He  had  visited  the  latter 
country  with  the  American  Expedition  under  Commodore 
Perry,  which  opened  these  islands  to  the  commerce  of 
the  world,  and  was  thus  one  of  the  first  foreigners  to  set 
foot  on  Japanese  soil. 

When  he  arrived  in  Gotha  in  August,  1856,  he  brought 
with  him  his  two  sisters,  who  were  about  my  age,  and 
his  youngest  brother,  a  youth  of  seventeen.  All  three 
were  attractive  in  appearance,  and  had  a  natural  grace 
of  manner.  The  older  sister,  Annie,  was  tall,  with  a  calm 
and  stately  carriage;  Emma,  the  younger,  was  shorter 
and  plumper,  a  dark  brunette  with  fresh  pink  cheeks  and 
a  lively  disposition.  I  can  see  her  still,  a  picture  of  youth 
ful  brightness,  as  she  came  to  meet  me  for  the  first  time, 
clad  in  a  white  dress,  with  a  freshly  plucked  flower  in  her 
black  hair.  Frederick,  the  youngest  of  all,  gave  the 
impression  of  a  healthy,  bright  boy,  modest  but  not 
bashful.  All  three  were  evidently  greatly  attached  to 
their  older  brother  and  followed  his  lead  implicitly. 

Bayard  Taylor's  external  appearance  had  changed 
somewhat  since  his  earlier  visit.  His  face,  even  then 


RETURN   TO   GOTHA  43 

burned  by  the  African  sun,  was  tanned  a  still  darker 
shade  and  his  untrimmed  beard  was  thicker  and  slightly 
curly.  His  features  had  matured,  while  the  physical 
exertions  and  mental  activity  of  the  intervening  years 
had  left  their  mark  upon  him.  But  his  amiable  disposi 
tion,  his  cheerful  spirit,  and  his  unquenchable  sense  of 
humour  had  not  suffered;  he  openly  showed  his  delight 
at  being  with  his  old  friends  again  and  enjoying  German 
Gemuthlichkeit.  In  front  of  the  garden  house,  in  which 
his  hosts  had  prepared  his  lodging,  a  terrace  surrounded 
by  flower  beds  and  shade  trees  extended  toward  the 
garden  with  its  splashing  fountain;  this  was  our  trysting 
place  during  the  afternoon  hours,  when  nothing  else  was 
going  on,  and  if  ever  I  did  not  put  in  an  appearance  volun 
tarily  " Fritz"  was  despatched  by  his  sisters  to  summon 
me.  In  this  way  Bayard  Taylor  and  I  became  better 
acquainted  than  we  had  been  during  his  first  visit  in  1851; 
but  as  he  did  not  know  how  to  carry  on  a  courtship,  our 
intercourse  remained  on  a  footing  of  simple  friendship.  At 
that  time  he  gave  me  the  latest  volume  of  his  collected 
poems,  so  that  I  became  familiar  with  his  poetic  work; 
his  books  of  travel  I  had  previously  read.  Thus  several 
weeks  passed  pleasantly,  until  the  travellers  resumed 
their  journey,  proceeding  first  to  Italy  and  then  to 
Switzerland  where  the  young  people  were  left  in  a  French 
pension  at  Lausanne  while  their  brother  returned  to 
the  North  in  order  to  spend  the  winter  in  Sweden  and 
Lapland.  On  his  way  thither  in  the  middle  of  Novem 
ber  he  passed  through  Gotha  again,  and  said  good-by 
with  the  assurance,  "  Next  spring  you  will  see  me  again! " 
I  was  then  ready  to  set  out  as  travelling  companion  to 
my  father  on  a  trip  to  England,  which  he  undertook  in 


44  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

order  to  superintend  the  printing  of  his  "Tables  of  the 
Sun  and  Moon,"  which  the  English  Government  had 
offered  to  publish.  He  took  advantage  of  an  invitation 
from  Airy,  the  Royal  Astronomer  of  Greenwich  Obser 
vatory,*  to  be  his  guest  during  the  time  of  his  stay  there. 
Mrs.  Airy  had  added  the  request  that  he  should  bring 
his  eldest  daughter  with  him. 

Mrs.  Airy  was  an  extremely  amiable  lady  and  her 
household  was  a  typical  English  one.  Her  four  children 
were  remarkably  wTell  bred ;  the  eldest  daughter,  although 
entirely  grown  up,  was  not  yet  emancipated  from  the 
nursery,  and  during  the  day  wore  pinafores  like  her 
younger  sisters.  In  the  evening,  when  the  dessert  was 
put  upon  the  table,  they  all  four  appeared,  dressed  in 
white,  with  bare  necks  and  arms,  and  coloured  sashes 
around  their  waists. 

The  season  was  a  very  unfavourable  one  for  my  first 
visit  to  London.  A  dense  fog  enveloped  us  upon  our 
arrival  and  penetrated  into  the  innermost  spaces  of 
the  enormous  railway  station,  so  that  I,  in  my  inex 
perience  took  it  for  the  steam  from  the  many  locomotives 
continually  coming  and  going.  From  the  Observatory, 
which  is  situated  high  upon  a  hill  in  Greenwich  Park,  with 
a  glorious  view  extending  to  the  distant  Marine  Hospital, 
there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  on  the  morning  of  our 
arrival  except  a  grayish  yellow  mantle  of  fog  covering 
everything.  As  the  sun  seldom  broke  through  the  clouds 
during  the  three  weeks  of  our  visit,  I  saw  very  little  of 
London,  but  passed  the  time  agreeably  notwithstanding, 
and  learned  to  know  and  admire  English  family  life.  My 
father  in  the  meantime  occupied  himself  in  his  usual  way 

*Afterward  Sir  George  Airy. 


RETURN   TO   GOTHA  45 

and  generally  disappeared  after  breakfast,  as  did  Mr. 
Airy,  to  reappear  again  in  the  evening  for  dinner;  after 
ward  in  the  drawing-room  he  made  himself  agreeable 
with  conversation  and  music,  which  was  no  hardship  to 
him  when  he  became  animated.  There  was  one  great 
deprivation,  however,  to  which  he  had  to  submit,  since 
smoking  in  the  house  was  tabooed  by  our  hosts.  During 
a  former  visit  of  my  father,  in  company  with  the  older 
Struwe,  it  even  seemed  to  be  a  source  of  embarrassment 
to  Mr.  Airy  when  the  two  gentlemen  lighted  their  cigars 
in  his  presence  while  walking  in  Greenwich  Park.  When 
they  offered  him  one  he  declined  with  the  remark,  "  I 
have  a  character  to  lose!"  Mr.  Airy  had,  however,  been 
so  considerate  this  time  as  to  provide  for  my  father,  who 
could  not  very  well  dispense  with  his  cigar  while  he  worked, 
a  small  room  in  the  Observatory  proper,  where  the  clouds 
of  smoke  which  arose  while  he  was  correcting  the  proofs 
of  his  "Tables  of  the  Sun  and  Moon"  would  disturb 
no  one. 

After  a  very  stormy  passage  of  the  English  Channel,  we 
arrived  in  Ostend  December  yth,  and  two  days  later 
we  were  at  home  again. 

In  the  following  spring  the  three  younger  Taylors  came 
back  from  Switzerland  and  again  were  the  welcome 
guests  of  my  relatives  on  the  Bufleb  property.  Here 
they  awaited  the  return  of  their  brother  Bayard  from 
the  North,  with  the  intention  of  starting  upon  their  home 
ward  voyage  over  the  ocean  without  him,  who  had  fur 
ther  plans  of  foreign  travel.  During  his  icy  northern 
journey  Bayard  Taylor's  name  was  often  mentioned,  not 
only  in  private  circles,  but  also  in  the  German  press. 
Early  in  January  his  friend  Bufleb  wrote  to  him : 


46  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

"It  is  really  almost  amusing  how  you  have  become 
the  watchword  within  the  narrower  and  wider  social 
circle  in  which  I  move.  As  often  as  I  appear  in  such  a 
circle  it  seems  to  be  expected  of  me  to  begin  talking  of 
you.  If  I  do  not  happen  to  do  so  they  call  out:-  'the 
watchword,  the  watchword!' — and  I  am  at  once 
launched  on  the  subject  which  I  am  ever  fond  of  con 
versing  upon.  Even  persons  not  near  to  you  or  me  prove 
their  sympathy  by  sending  favourable  criticisms  about 
you  which  they  have  seen  in  one  newspaper  or  the 
other." 

Later  he  wrote  to  Taylor  at  Stockholm : 

"  Of  yourself  we  have  lately  read  and  heard  a  good  deal. 
The  Cologne  Gazette  brought  us  your  visit  to  Humboldt; 
the  Village  Gazette  in  a  very  genial  article  your  talk 
with  Mugge;  the  Europa  your  views  about  several 
notabilities  of  German  literature.  Only  this  morning 

Z sent  me  some  longer  productions  of  your  pen 

which  the  Saxon  Constitutional  had  taken  from  the 
Tribune.'1  In  another  paper  a  correspondent  described 
Bayard  Taylor's  visit  to  friends  in  Dresden  during  the 
previous  autumn: 

"  Lately  we  went  in  his  company  to  the  house  in  Korner's 
vineyard  in  Loschwitz,  where  Schiller  wrote  '  Don  Carlos.' 
It  made  a  strange  impression  when  the  American,  stand 
ing  in  a  snow  flurry  on  the  white  and  cold  vine  hills  of 
the  Elbe,  told  us  of  India  and  related  how  at  Benares,  on 
the  banks  of  the  holy  Ganges,  he  had  thought  of  our  poet 
in  the  temple  of  the  goddess  Zhavani.  She  is  the  Ceres 
of  the  Hindoos.  When  Bayard  Taylor  stood  before  that 
temple  hundreds  of  country  people  came  up  to  it  in  pro 
cession  to  lay  sacrificial  gifts  upon  the  altar.  They 


RETURN   TO   GOTHA  47 

carried  in  their  hands  urns  of  bronze  filled  with  water,  and 
were  bedecked  with  flowers  and  green  branches.  'This 
reminded  me  forcibly, '  said  the  traveller,  '  of  the  festival 
of  Eleusis,  and  I  repeated  the  glorious  poem,  Windet  zum 
Krauze  die  goldenen  Aehren!*  My  worship  in  the  temple 
of  the  Indian  Ceres  was  given  to  Schiller ! ' ' 

The  stay  in  Stockholm  lasted  longer  than  had  originally 
been  Bayard  Taylor's  intention,  and  it  wras  the  middle 
of  May  when  he  arrived  in  Gotha.  It  was  an  unusually 
beautiful  month  of  May  for  our  bleak  Thuringian  table 
land.  Fresh  green  foliage  was  everywhere,  fragrant 
lilacs  were  in  bloom  around  the  garden  house,  the  grove 
below  the  clipped  arbours  and  hedges  proffered  a  grateful 
refuge  from  the  hot  sunshine,  and  lilies-of-the-valley, 
daffodils,  hyacinths,  and  tulips  were  in  flower  in  the  beds. 
A  few  days  passed,  and  I  was  engaged  to  him.  My 
parents,  to  whom  it  was  a  great  hardship  to  let  me  go  so 
far  away,  across  the  ocean,  especially  since  they  had 
already  given  one  daughter  to  Russia,  had  nothing 
to  say  against  the  engagement,  and  gave  me  their 
blessing. 

It  was  a  short  time  we  spent  together.  Bayard  Taylor 
accompanied  his  brother  and  sisters  to  Bremen  early  in 
June,  whence  they  took  passage  for  New  York,  and  then 
carried  out  his  plan,  previously  formed,  of  visiting  the 
North  Cape  and  seeing  the  midnight  sun. 

Since  Taylor  had  started  again  on  his  travels  in  1856 
the  Muse  seemed  to  have  turned  her  back  upon  him.  Not 
one  of  his  poems  was  written  during  this  period  of  wander 
ing.  On  the  other  hand,  during  his  temporary  visits  to 

*"Das  Eleusische  Fest,"  beginning:  "Ears  of  the  wheat  for  the  gar 
land  you're  wreathing." 


48  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

Gotha,  he  composed  German  verses  (sometimes  also 
parodies  of  German  poems)  which  bear  testimony  to 
his  overflowing  spirits.  Thus,  he  one  day  sent  the  follow 
ing  note  by  his  servant  to  his  hostess,  my  aunt : 

"An  die  liebe,  gute  Tante, 
Die  beruhmte,  vielgenannte, 
Die  ich  schon  seit  Jahren  kannte, 
Send'  ich  eiligst  meine  Bitte 
Aus  der  laubumrankten  Hiitte. 
Hier  ich  dicht'  und  durst'  im  Freien, 
Abgeschieden  von  Mareien, 
Fern  vom  heitern  Pfingstenfeste, 
Wie  ein  Vogelein  im  Neste. 
Und  ist  mir  das  Herz  schon  bange, 
Denn  ich  g'essen  hab'  schon  lange, 
Und  gerauchet  drei  Cigarren 
Und  Du  lasst  mich  immer  harren 
Auf  das  Bier,  das  heissersehnte, 
Das  noch  niemals  abgelehnte, 
Das  was  einst  die  Gotter  trunken, 
Woraus  spriih'n  der  Freude  Funken, 
Einz'ger  Trost  und  einz'ge  Labe, 
Die  ich  nun  auf  Erden  habe, 
Ausgenommen  die  Marei, 
Und  ich  wollt'  sie  war  dabei."* 

[*"To  the  dearest  aunt  and  best, 
Celebrated,  oft  addressed, 
Whom  for  years  I've  known  and  blest, 
Swift  I  send  this  prayer  of  mine 
From  the  hut  embower 'd  in  vine. 
Here  I  write  and  thirst,  and  sigh, 
Separated  from  Marei. 
Far  from  the  pleasant  Whitsun  Test* 
Like  a  birdie  in  its  nest ; 
And  my  heart  is  getting  low 
Since  my  breakfast,  hours  ago, 


RETURN  TO   GOTHA  49 

This  is  a  sample  of  quite  a  collection  of  comic  German 
poems  written  by  Bayard  Taylor  which  I  possess. 

Before  Taylor  returned  from  the  North  we  had  moved 
into  the  dwelling  house  of  the  new  Observatory.  When 
on  September  2oth  we  were  at  last  settled,  not  only  we, 
but  all  those  who  visited  us  to  wish  us  happiness  in  our 
new  home,  were  pleased  with  the  spacious,  two-story 
house  and  its  appointments.  My  mother  also,  who  had 
been  reluctant  to  leave  her  own  house,  was  reconciled 
to  it,  and  my  father  was  so  obviously  rejoiced  to  find 
himself  at  the  goal  of  his  long-cherished  hope,  the  suc 
cessful  establishment  of  his  well-considered  plan  for  the 
new  Observatory,  that  we  were  all  very  happy. 

The  day  was  drawing  near  when  I  was  to  leave  the 
parental  home  with  all  the  love  that  it  contained.  Besides 
father  and  mother,  my  youngest  brother  and  sister,  the 
only  ones  left  at  home,  were  very  near  to  my  heart. 
August,  a  handsome  seventeen-year-old  boy,  and  Ida, 
hardly  more  than  a  child,  were  very  much  attached  to 
me.  The  little  sister  especially,  whose  sunny  disposition 
made  her  the  favourite  of  everyone,  was  quite  as  much 
a  product  of  my  influence  as  of  my  mother's  education. 
I  studied  French  with  her,  but  we  talked  English  together 
by  preference,  in  which  we  were  joined  by  our  brother. 
They  told  me  the  happenings  in  their  little  lives,  their 


And  I've  smoked  cigarros  three 

While  I  wait  so  dismalee 

For  the  beer,  for  which  I've  pined, 

Which  I  never  yet  declined. 

Which  the  gods  of  old  were  quaffing, 

And  in  jovial  humour  laughing. 

Only  solace,  only  joy, 

Which  I  still  on  earth  enjoy, 

Excepting  Marei, 

And  I  wish  that  she  were  nigh!"] — L.  B.  T.  K. 


5o  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

joys  and  sorrows.  These  family  ties  were  now  to  be 
superseded  by  the  bond  which  I  formed  for  life. 

At  the  end  of  September  Bayard  Taylor  returned  to 
Gotha,  and  on  the  2yth  of  the  following  month  we  were 
married  in  the  pleasant  little  Court  Chapel  in  Castle 
Friedenstein  by  our  never-to-be-forgotten  friend,  the 
Oberhofprediger  (Court  Preacher)  Karl  Schwarz.  At 
first  there  had  been  some  difficulties  in  the  way  of  the 
wedding,  because  my  fiance",  whose  ancestors  were 
Quakers,  had  not  been  christened,  while  at  that  time 
a  baptismal  certificate  was  required  by  the  authorities 
before  the  banns  could  be  published.  Fortunately  our 
revered  Oberhofprediger  was  an  exceptionally  liberal 
clergyman,  and  after  a  paper  had  been  procured,  in 
which  Bayard  Taylor's  parents  affirmed  their  consent 
to  the  marriage,  and  an  affidavit  of  his  citizenship,  Dr. 
Schwarz  arranged  matters  so  that  the  wedding  ceremony 
could  be  performed.  To  my  fiance's  great  amusement  the 
sexton  came  to  him  before  the  banns  were  read  with 
the  question,  what  was  the  rank  of  the  Herr  Brautigam? 
he  must  surely  have  a  title?  "Oh,"  was  the  reply,  "you 
can  say:  Landowner  and  citizen  of  the  United  States; 
that  will  suffice."  And  thus  was  he  proclaimed  before 
the  whole  parish.  Among  the  wedding  presents  he  re 
ceived  as  presage  of  the  future,  a  small  copy  of  Goethe's 
"  Faust,"  the  gift  of  a  friend,  which  Bayard  Taylor  after 
ward  used  for  his  translation. 

Immediately  after  the  wedding  we  left  for  London, 
whither  my  husband  was  called  by  the  necessity  of  pre 
paring  his  volume  of  "Northern  Travel"  for  the  press. 
The  text  was  ready  to  hand  in  the  letters  which  he  had 
written  for  the  New  York  Tribune  during  his  trip  to  Nor- 


RETURN   TO   GOTH  A  51 

way,  Sweden,  and  Lapland,  and  it  was  only  necessary 
to  put  them  together  and  join  them  into  a  consistent 
whole.  As  I  was  fired  with  the  unconquerable  ambition 
to  be  not  only  my  husband's  wife,  but  his  assistant  as 
well,  he  yielded  to  my  wish  and  allowed  me  to  cut  out 
and  paste  the  published  letters  on  sheets  of  paper.  He 
was  fond  of  teasing  me  with  this  mechanical  work,  and 
compared  me  to  Dora  in  "  David  Copperfield, "  saying  I 
helped  him  by  holding  his  pen. 

This  time  I  really  learned  to  know  London.  The 
metropolis  itself  made  little  impression  upon  me.  It  is 
not  beautiful;  but  I  was  attracted  by  its  enormous  size, 
its  thousands  of  inhabitants  who  were  to  be  seen  in  the 
streets,  by  the  multitude  of  carriages  and  carts,  by  the 
Strand,  Fleet  Street,  and  the  heart  of  the  "city."  This 
old  London,  with  its  ancient  buildings,  was  of  more  in 
terest  to  me  than  Hyde  Park  or  Piccadilly,  and  I  was 
glad  that  we  were  lodged  in  the  old  quarter  in  the  well- 
known  Wood's  Hotel.  A  gray,  unassuming  edifice,  it 
occupied  the  background  of  a  large  court,  surrounded  by 
equally  dingy  high  houses.  The  entire  square  was  called 
Furnival's  Inn,  and  was  entered  from  Oxford  Street.  I 
wonder  if  it  still  exists  in  these  changeful  times  ?  Wood's 
was  a  family  hotel;  an  almost  solemn  silence  pervaded 
the  entire  house;  every  footstep  was  muffled  by  thick 
carpets ;  the  liveried  sevants  spoke  in  low  tones,  using  the 
fewest  words.  The  meals  were  formally  served  in  our 
rooms,  which  were  so  comfortably  furnished  that  we  felt 
very  much  at  home. 

Soon  after  our  arrival  I  made  Thackeray's  acquaintance, 
and  found  confirmed  in  his  person  the  characteristics 
which  I  had  guessed  at  from  his  works — a  warm  heart 


52  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

under  the  mask  of  scathing  satire.  On  the  occasion  of  a 
small  dinner  which  he  gave  us  he  said  to  my  hus 
band,  after  the  gentlemen  had  rejoined  the  ladies  in  the 
drawing-room:  "By-the-by,  I  must  give  you  a  wedding 
present.  What  shall  it  be?"  Then  going  to  an  etagere 
he  took  down  a  silver  inkstand  and  gave  it  to  his  friend, 
in  spite  of  the  evident  displeasure  of  his  youngest  daughter, 
usually  so  amiable,  who  exclaimed  with  all  the  naivete 
of  her  fifteen  years:  "Oh,  not  that  one,  papa!"  But 
papa  gave  no  heed,  and  a  few  days  later  sent  us  the  gift 
with  the  inscription  engraved  upon  it:  "W.  M.  Thack 
eray  to  Bayard  Taylor,  Oct.  27,  1857." 

In  the  beginning  of  December,  after  a  short  visit  to  my 
parents,  we  were  on  our  way  to  Greece,  where  we  intended 
to  spend  the  winter.  We  took  passage  at  Trieste  on  the 
Lloyd  steamer  Miramar,  and  coasted  along  the  pic 
turesque  shores  of  Dalmatia,  and  thence  by  way  of 
Corfu  to  Ludraki.  Here  we  landed,  and  crossing  the 
isthmus  of  Corinth,  proceeded  to  Athens. 

Taylor  has  fully  described  the  very  interesting  voyage 
on  the  Miramar  and  the  incidents  of  the  Grecian  trip  in 
his  seventh  volume  of  travel,  "Greece  and  Russia,  and 
an  Excursion  to  Crete."  Therefore  little  remains  for 
me  to  mention. 

We  were  not  fortunate  in  one  respect,  as  this  winter 
was  an  exceptionally  cold  one  in  the  South.  During 
the  months  of  January  and  February  one  rainstorm, 
and  even  of  snow,  followed  another.  Everyone  shivered 
and  complained,  and  finally  more  or  less  destructive 
earthquakes  supervened.  We  welcomed  the  sunshiny 
days  all  the  more  joyfully,  and  made  use  of  the  very  first 
to  visit  the  Acropolis.  Poor  as  Athens  is  in  ancient 


RETURN  TO   GOTH  A  53 

monuments  as  compared  to  Rome,  the  latter  possesses  no 
ruin  like  this  temple  of  Pallas  Athene,  none  in  which 
the  pure  Hellenic  spirit  thus  speaks  to  us  from  the 
crumbling  masonry.  What  is  left  of  the  temple  and  of 
the  Propylaea  alone  makes  it  worth  while  to  travel  to 
Athens,  and  to  bear  all  the  hardships  of  storm,  frost, 
and  earthquake.  My  husband,  who  was  very  fond  of 
sketching  in  water  colours,  could  not  rest  until  he  had 
made  several  pictures  of  the  glorious  Acropolis  rising 
out  of  the  plain,  from  different  sides  and  under  sunny 
and  stormy  skies.  These  were  the  first  of  a  whole  series 
of  aquarelles  which  we  took  home  with  us  from  Greece. 

Our  very  comfortable  lodgings  were  in  the  house  of 
Francois  Vitalis,  who  had  accompanied  Bayard  Taylor 
as  dragoman  on  his  trip  through  Asia  Minor.  When  the 
stormy  weather  confined  us  to  our  rooms  we  passed  the 
time  agreeably  with  divers  occupations.  My  husband 
wrote  his  letters  for  the  New  York  Tribune  and  studied 
modern  Greek.  Besides,  we  read  together  historical 
works  on  Greece,  and  studied  the  ancient  geography  of 
the  country.  We  read  also  with  great  interest  Edmond 
About's  "Le  Roi  des  Montagnes,"  and  "La  Grece  Con- 
temporaine,"  both  of  which  proved  to  be  good  companions 
for  the  trip.  Thus,  January  passed,  and  in  February  my 
husband  started  on  his  excursion  to  Crete.  Twice  only 
could  my  traveller  send  me  word  of  himself,  on  account  of 
the  difficulty  of  communication,  but  some  news  concern 
ing  him,  received  from  another  source,  was  a  great  and 
joyful  surprise.  It  was  contained  in  a  letter,  which  a 
Greek  girl  in  Canea  wrote  to  her  former  teachers — the 
Americans,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hill  in  Athens — and  was  to  the 
effect  that  the  Turkish  Pasha  was  quite  enchanted  by 


54  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

the  American  traveller,  and  had  received  and  enter 
tained  him  like  a  prince. 

Early  in  March  my  husband  unexpectedly  returned. 
The  abnormally  bad  weather  had  prevented  him  from 
carrying  out  his  original  plan  to  extend  his  trip  to  some 
of  the  islands  of  the  archipelago.  Toward  the  middle  of 
the  month,  as  the  weather  seemed  to  improve  and  to 
grow  spring-like,  he  started  again,  and  visited  first  the 
Peloponesus,  and  then,  after  a  short  rest  in  Athens, 
the  north  of  Greece.  Again  without  me,  because,  as  he 
wrote  to  his  mother,  there  were  no  inns  on  the  way,  and 
the  houses  were  dirty,  without  beds  and  full  of  fleas, 
and  he  must  therefore  leave  me  behind. 

During  these  trips  of  my  husband  I  had  no  lack  of 
entertainment.  We  had  found  very  dear  friends  in  the 
American  missionary  and  his  wife,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hill, 
who  had  for  many  years  presided  over  a  school  in  which 
they  educated  a  large  number  of  Greek  girls  of  all  classes. 
A  charming  intimacy  existed  between  them  and  us,  and 
even  during  my  husband's  absence  few  days  passed 
without  mutual  visits  or  drives  and  little  jaunts  in  their 
company.  Another  agreeable  acquaintance  was  Sir 
Thomas  Wyse,  the  English  Minister,  and  the  latter's 
niece,  Miss  Wyse,  who  presided  over  his  house  and 
received  with  great  amiability  at  the  small  soirees  which 
they  gave  weekly.  On  one  of  these  pleasant  evenings 
at  the  Legation  I  expressed  my  astonishment  at  the  sight 
of  school  children,  evidently  of  the  lower  classes,  whose 
books  were  carried  for  them  by  a  servant.  Thereupon 
Miss  Wyse  told  me  that  the  little  daughter  of  her  coach 
man,  who  went  to  school  where  the  pupils  have  to  sweep 
out  the  schoolroom,  one  day  broke  her  broom,  and  was 


RETURN  TO   GOTHA  55 

sent  out  by  the  teacher  to  have  it  mended.  On  the  way 
she  met  her  father,  who  was  furious  to  see  his  daughter 
in  the  street  with  a  broom,  and  threatened  her  with 
severe  punishment  if  she  should  ever  dare  to  carry  any 
thing  again  in  the  street.  "This  stupid  pride,"  Miss 
Wyse  added,  "has  diminished  to  a  marked  degree  in  this 
city,  principally  owing  to  the  noble  endeavours  of  the 
Hills." 

About  the  middle  of  April  Taylor  wrote  to  me  from 
Livadia : 

"  Yesterday  I  drank  of  the  streams  of  Helicon,  and  was 
saluted  by  the  cries  of  the  goats  Zizi,  Quiqui  and  Mimi,* 
from  the  top  of  the  rock.  The  water  is  delicious — clear, 
sweet  and  strong,  and  for  two  hours  afterwards  I  talked 
in  rhyme: 

"  He  now  can  drink  who  chooses, 
At  the  Fountain  of  the  Muses, 
For  the  ancient  gods  and  goddesses 
And  the  nymphs  in  scanty  bodices, 
Are  now  no  more  detected 
In  the  shrines  to  them  erected. 
Nothing  but  the  lonely  pelican 
Now  inhabits  famous  Helicon, 
And  the  only  Fauns  and  Satyrs 
Are  the  Greeks  who  plant  petaters; 
Dirty,   lousy,   lazy  beggars, 
Scarcely  better  than  our  niggers, 
Unworthy  even  to  clean  the  shoes-es 
Of  Apollo  and  the  Muses,  f 

*A  reference  to  a  passage  in  Immermann's  "Munchhausen,"  which 
we  had  read  shortly  before. 

f"In  Greece  and  Russia,"  page  223,  this  letter  has  been  used  in  a 
different  form. 


56  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

"  At  this  place  is  the  cave  of  Trophonius,  once  a  famous 
oracle.  It  is  a  wonderfully  wild,  picturesque  spot;  and 
would  make  a  charming  sketch,  only  the  rain  falls  so 
heavily  that  I  cannot  take  it.  I  have  only  made  two 
sketches  as  yet,  but  hope  to  bring  you  ten  at  least.  We 
shall  probably  have  good  weather  after  this  rain  is  done, 
and  I  still  hope  we  shall  get  back  in  fifteen  days.  .  .  . 
The  nightingales  are  singing  deliciously.  Over  against  us 
is  Daulis,  where  Philomela  became  the  first  nightingale." 

Taylor  brought  back  from  his  Grecian  trips  not  only 
sketches,  but  also  a  flower,  a  fern,  a  twig  of  laurel  or  olive 
from  every  classic  place  he  visited.  These  I  carefully 
pressed  between  sheets  of  paper,  and  pasted  them  after 
ward  into  an  album,  with  the  names  of  the  places  where 
they  were  plucked.  I  still  possess  this  relic. 

Meanwhile  I  kept  up  a  lively  correspondence  with  my 
mother,  and  thus  learned  that  my  father  had  received 
from  the  King  of  Belgium  the  Commander's  Cross  of 
the  Order  of  Leopold — "a  beautiful,  large  order,  to  be 
worn  around  the  neck."  Besides  that,  the  Duke  and 
Duchess,  the  Grand  Duke  and  Grand  Duchess  of  Baden, 
the  Princess  Marie  of  Baden,  and  the  Princes  of  Lein- 
ingen  had  come  to  see  the  new  Observatory. 

"They  came  unannounced  at  noon,"  wrote  my  mother, 
"while  I  was  out,  and  father  in  dressing  gowrn  and 
slippers.  The  Duke  came  first,  and  saw  father,  who  had 
recognised  his  voice,  on  the  stairs  in  this  costume.  'Oh,' 
he  said,  'if  you  only  put  on  other  shoes  it  will  be  all 
right.'  Father  asked  them  to  step  into  the  Saal  and 
then  dressed  quickly.  The  strange  Princes  were  very 
much  pleased  with  the  Observatory,  and  the  Duke  seems 


RETURN  TO   GOTHA  57 

to  be  well  satisfied  with  it,  or  he  would  not  have  come 
again.  They  are  coming  in  the  evening  soon  to  look 
at  the  sky." 

Early  in  May  we  bade  adieu  to  Athens  and  Greece,  and 
returned  by  way  of  Constantinople,  the  Black  Sea,  and 
the  Danube  to  Germany  and  our  Thuringian  home.  There 
my  little  daughter  was  born  in  the  late  summer,  and  with 
this  occurrence  the  traveller  Bayard  Taylor  was  again 
metamorphosed  into  the  poet.  When  our  baby  was 
eight  weeks  old  we  departed  for  the  home  of  my  husband, 
which  was  thenceforth  to  be  my  own.  It  was  a  grievous 
parting. 


CHAPTER  V 
OUTRE  MER 

AFTER  a  voyage  of  nineteen  days  on  the  old  Saxonia, 
of  the  Hamburg  line,  we  arrived  in  the  harbour  of  New 
York  during  the  night  of  October  226..  The  moon  shone 
clear  and  bright  as  I  stood  on  the  steamer's  deck  and 
looked  out  upon  a  new  world  with  all  it  concealed  for  me 
in  the  veiled  future.  Next  morning  the  wide  beautiful 
harbour  was  revealed,  with  its  countless  ships,  its  ferry 
boats  like  low  swimming  houses,  crossing  hither  and  yon ; 
to  the  left  the  rolling  hills  of  the  Staten  Island  shore, 
to  the  right  the  roof  line  of  the  metropolis,  and  between 
these  the  broad  waters  of  the  Hudson  merging  into  the 
bay.  Not  long  after  our  arrival  at  the  As  tor  House 
friends  of  my  husband  began  to  drop  in  to  bid  him 
welcome  and  to  take  a  look  at  the  wife  whom  he  had 
brought  from  a  foreign  land.  This  wife  was  over 
whelmed  with  a  feeling  of  apprehension  until  she  dis 
covered  that  everyone  met  her  with  evident  good-will. 
Among  our  first  visitors  was  Horace  Greeley,  of  ponderous 
form,  with  a  round  face,  a  healthy  complexion,  light-blue 
eyes,  long,  scanty,  pale-yellow  hair,  and  a  pleasant,  half 
absent-minded  expression.  After  him  came  Charles 
Dana,  then  second  editor  of  the  Tribune,  jovial  and  ver 
satile,  who  spoke  German  almost  without  an  accent,  and 
George  P.  Putnam,  the  intelligent  publisher  of  Bayard 
Taylor's  prose  works,  who  greeted  me  with  cordial 

58 


OUTRE  MER  59 

bonhomie.  Other  guests  were  the  Stoddards,*  whom  I 
was  especially  glad  to  meet,  as  they  were  intimate  friends 
of  my  husband.  Of  medium  stature  and  slender  build, 
with  dark  hair  and  beard,  he  was  all  open-heartedness, 
candid  in  everything  he  said,  and  bubbling  over  with 
wit  and  humour.  She  was  smaller,  her  hair  was  dark 
brown  and  very  thick,  her  eyes  a  dark  gray,  while  her 
features  indicated  a  decided  character  combined  with 
great  intensity  and  esprit.  All  her  utterances  were 
cleverly  turned,  and  she  vied  with  her  husband  in  witty 
remarks.  She  at  once  took  possession  of  me  on  the 
certain  presumption  that  we  should  be  friends ;  and  after 
the  many  years  which  have  intervened,  considering  the 
great  divergence  of  our  characters  and  dispositions, 
she  still  remains  that  one  among  my  friends  with  whom 
I  am  most  intimate  and  in  whose  society  I  find  the  greatest 
mental  stimulus.! 

We  did  not  tarry  long  in  the  city.  We  longed  for  the 
country,  where  parents,  brothers  and  sisters  were  await 
ing  us,  and  where  my  husband  expected  to  build  his  home. 
After  a  short  stay  in  New  York  we  proceeded  southward 
to  Kennett  Square,  situated  thirty-four  miles  south  of 
Philadelphia  and  sixty  miles  north  of  Baltimore.  As  the 
railway  from  the  former  city  to  Kennett  was  then  in 
process  of  construction,  we  were  obliged  to  travel  as  far 
as  Wilmington,  Delaware,  whence  a  drive  of  fourteen 
miles  in  a  northwesterly  direction  brought  us  to  our 
destination.  It  was  my  first  experience  of  the  rough 
country  roads  of  Chester  County,  the  neglected  condition 

*Richard  Henry  and  Elizabeth  Barstow  Stoddard. 

fSince  the  above  was  written  Mrs.  Stoddard  died,  in  August,  1902, 
and  Mr.  Stoddard  followed  her  the  ensuing  year. 


60  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

of  which  is  a  reproach  to  the  progressive  spirit  of  the 
people  of  that  section.  Nevertheless  the  countryside 
through  which  our  primitive  road  led  us  after  we  had  left 
the  valley  of  the  Delaware  was  so  lovely,  so  idyllic,  that 
I  forgot  how  bad  it  was  under  foot.  We  skirted  hills 
and  valleys,  tilled  land,  and  green  woods  in  changeful 
succession;  hedged  fields  with  here  and  there  a  single 
wide-branched  tree  casting  its  broad  shadow,  and  mea 
dows  through  which  a  brook  fringed  with  willows  mean 
dered  along,  where  fine  herds  of  cattle  were  grazing,  or 
resting  in  the  lush  herbage.  Anon  we  passed  gentle 
slopes  overgrown  with  bowers  of  foliage,  of  maple, 
sycamore,  walnut,  chestnut,  locust  and  sassafras.  Tangled 
thickets  intervened  with  grapevines  clambering  to  the 
tree  tops,  and  in  damp  hollows  an  exquisite  wilderness 
of  flowers  and  ferns  ran  riot.  Nestled  among  sheltering 
clumps  of  trees  the  farmhouses  lay  scattered  here  and 
there,  surrounded  by  orchards  and  barns  which  were  often 
larger  and  more  pretentious  than  the  modest  dwellings. 
There  is  no  other  village  between  Wilmington  and  Ken- 
nett  Square,  which  at  that  time  had  a  population  of 
about  five  hundred  inhabitants.  After  leaving  the  latter 
place  the  road  continued  to  the  north  between  fields  of 
corn  stubble  and  green  winter  wheat  a  short  mile  to  a 
beautiful  piece  of  woodland  at  the  left.  "Our  wood!" 
my  husband  exclaimed.  On  the  right,  where  a  lane 
diverged  between  the  fields,  the  youngest  brother  and 
sister  suddenly  burst  out  from  behind  a  clump  of  trees, 
and  with  the  cry  "We  couldn't  wait  any  longer!" 
Emma  sprang  upon  one  step  of  the  carriage,  and  Fred 
upon  the  other,  and  both  embraced  us  with  tears  and 
laughter.  A  short  distance  beyond  the  farmhouse  lay 


OUTRE   MER  61 

before  us,  where  our  welcome  was  no  less  warm  and 
hearty,  if  not  quite  so  boisterous.  My  mother-in-law 
at  once  seized  upon  her  grandchild,  and  I  willingly  gave 
it  into  her  care,  for  the  new  impressions  which  had  crowded 
in  upon  me  during  the  last  few  days  and  my  unaccus 
tomed  surroundings  had  robbed  me  for  the  time  being 
of  the  circumspection  necessary  to  provide  well  for  my 
little  daughter.  I  did  not  feel  entirely  at  ease  again 
until  I  sat  down  in  the  midst  of  the  assembled  family 
to  a  dinner  table  loaded  to  profusion,  and  was  at 
liberty  to  study  the  many  strange  faces.  According  to 
country  fashion  all  the  dishes  were  put  upon  the  table 
at  the  same  time.  A  large  juicy  ham  occupied  one 
end,  an  immense  roast  of  beef  the  other,  and  between 
were  placed  five  or  six  kinds  of  vegetables,  sweet  and 
sour  preserves,  and  an  assortment  of  pies.  It  was  not 
customary  to  have  soup,  and,  as  I  discovered  later,  in 
those  days  this  course  did  not  belong  to  an  ordinary 
menu  even  in  the  cities.  It  also  surprised  me  to  see  the 
plates  passed  around  and  filled  with  a  helping  from  every 
dish.  When  my  plate  at  last  reached  me  I  was  secretly 
frightened  at  the  wealth  of  good  things  which  was  heaped 
upon  it.  The  only  eatables  lacking  were  the  pies,  which 
served  as  dessert. 

The  succeeding  days  were  full  of  excitement.  Begin 
ning  with  the  morrow  a  long  procession  of  relatives  and 
friends  of  the  family  came  to  bid  us  welcome.  The  major 
ity  of  the  numerous  Taylor  family  in  all  its  branches 
(my  husband  used  to  say  he  had  so  many  cousins  that  he 
would  be  willing  to  sell  some  of  them  at  twenty-five 
cents  a  hundred),  as  well  as  of  its  many  friends  and 
acquaintances,  belonged  to  the  religious  society  of  the 


62  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

Quakers  or,  as  they  preferred  to  be  called,  "Friends.'* 
In  their  peculiar  manner  of  dress,  with  its  entire  absence 
of  colour,  in  the  simplicity  of  their  speech  and  of  their 
whole  behaviour,  which  was  not  lacking  in  a  certain 
quiet  dignity,  the  Quakers  interested  me  greatly  from 
the  very  beginning  and  I  soon  learned  to  love  and  esteem 
them. 

My  husband's  ancestors  had  belonged  to  this  sect 
since  the  days  of  William  Penn ;  his  paternal  grandfather, 
however,  committed  the  grave  offense  of  marrying  a  wife 
of  the  Lutheran  faith.  For  this  misdeed  he  lost  his 
birthright,  and  thenceforward  neither  he  nor  his  descend 
ants  were  members  of  the  Society.  Nevertheless,  his 
children  and  grandchildren  still  adhered  to  the  funda 
mental  principles  and  to  a  great  extent  also  to  the  man 
ners  and  customs  of  the  Quakers;  and  therein  lay  the 
source  of  Bayard  Taylor's  morality  and  of  his  religious 
beliefs,  so  free  from  any  kind  of  dogmatism. 

Almost  all  the  people  whom  I  met,  and  among  whom 
my  life  was  to  be  spent  in  future,  were  the  descendants 
of  the  original  settlers,  who  had  left  England  one  or 
two  centuries  before,  driven  forth  by  religious  or  political 
persecution.  The  first  Taylor,  Robert  by  name,  was  one 
of  the  companions  of  William  Penn  in  his  expedition 
to  the  new  world.  He  settled  in  the  southeasterly 
district  of  the  wide  territory  which  owes  its  name  to  that 
great  Quaker  and  friend  of  humanity.  He  came  from 
Warwickshire  in  the  year  1681,  and  was  the  ancestor 
in  direct  line  of  Bayard  Taylor.  His  descendants  had 
lived  on  the  same  lands  for  almost  two  hundred  years, 
and  Joseph  Taylor,  my  father-in-law,  owned  a  portion 
of  them.  In  the  two  generations  preceding  my  husband 


OUTRE  HER  63 

an  admixture  of  German  blood  had  been  infused  into 
the  old  English  stock.  The  grandmother,  for  whose 
sake  John  Taylor  allowed  himself  to  be  expelled  from 
Quaker  "meeting,"  came  from  Lancaster  County,  and 
was  a  descendant  of  those  German  and  Swiss  Protestants 
who  were  driven  from  the  Palatinate  by  religious  persecu 
tion  at  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  and  beginning  of  the 
eighteenth  centuries.  Not  only  my  husband's  grand 
mother,  who  never  learned  to  speak  English  fluently, 
but  his  mother  also  was  descended  on  the  maternal  side 
from  those  Pennsylvania  "  Dutch  "  colonists.  The  latter, 
however,  did  not  speak  German  easily,  and  although 
brought  up  as  a  Lutheran,  soon  adopted  the  religious 
beliefs  of  the  Quakers. 

She  was  a  woman  of  a  lively  intellect  and  a  cheery, 
vivacious  temperament,  combined  with  great  energy. 
She  possessed  the  gift  of  always  looking  upon  the  bright 
side  of  every  situation,  and  under  less  circumscribed 
conditions,  with  a  higher  education,  she  would  have  been 
a  distinguished  woman.  But  to  her  it  was  sufficient  to 
be  Bayard  Taylor's  mother;  it  was  the  crowning  joy  of 
her  life.  She  alone  had  understood  the  aspirations  of  his 
youth,  and  had  taken  his  part  against  conditions  which 
were  antagonistic  to  him.  She  secretly  supplied  him 
with  books,  and  gave  him  opportunity  to  gratify  his 
desire  for  knowledge  by  inventing  excuses  to  keep  him 
away  from  the  hated  farm  labour. 

Although  her  son  had  inherited  the  nature  and  excel 
lent  qualities  of  his  mother,  in  external  appearance  he 
resembled  his  father.  Contrasted  with  the  vivacious 
energy  of  his  wife,  Joseph  Taylor  showed  a  placidity  and 
unconcern,  which  was  a  disadvantage  to  him  in  the 


64  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

successful  tillage  of  his  land.  Perhaps  in  another  calling 
he  would  have  accomplished  better  results,  for  he  was  by 
no  means  lacking  in  sagacity  or  in  the  executive  abilities 
of  an  employer.  His  tall  stature  and  dignified  carriage 
gave  him  the  appearance  of  a  handsome  man  even  in  his 
old  age. 

The  inherited  farm  comprised  about  150  acres  of  field 
and  woodland,  with  hills  and  meadow.  The  farm 
house  lay  off  the  main  road,  and  a  broad  avenue  of  pines 
and  spruce  trees  winding  between  the  fields  led  down  to 
it.  The  house,  not  overlarge,  was  built  of  wood  with  a 
covered  porch  over  the  front  door,  shaded  by  a  group  of 
lofty  trees,  under  whose  shadow  a  hammock  was  sus 
pended.  Thick  hedges  of  box  defined  the  open  space 
before  the  house  and  the  flower  beds  of  the  adjoining 
garden. 

A  glorious  October  day  dawned  on  the  morrow  of  our 
arrival,  as  perfect  as  one  could  wish  for  the  first  inspection 
of  one's  future  home.  The  entrance  to  our  land  was 
through  a  gate  just  across  the  main  road  from  the  lane 
to  the  "old  house"  (my  father-in-law's  farm).  After 
traversing  a  grove  of  old  oak,  hickory,  and  chestnut 
trees,  we  came  out  upon  a  large  open  space,  on  the 
highest  point  of  which  our  house  was  to  be  built.  The 
land  sloped  gradually  southward  down  to  the  main  road 
in  a  broad  stretch  of  grass :  a  natural  lawn  set  with  small 
groups  of  wild  cedars.  In  the  far  distance  the  dim  blue 
outlines  of  a  chain  of  hills  could  be  discerned,  faint  in 
the  haze  of  the  Indian  summer.  In  every  other  direction 
the  building  site  was  surrounded  by  park-like  groves  of 
trees,  with  pleasant  vistas  over  fields  and  wooded  slopes, 
a  beautiful  panorama  which  filled  me  with  delight.  Art 


OUTRE  HER  65 

could  not  have  produced  anything  more  perfect  than  un 
assisted  Nature  had  created  here  during  the  fifty  years 
when  she  had  worked  her  will  unrestrained.  We  owed 
this  circumstance  to  the  whim  of  a  rich  old  farmer,  the 
former  owner  of  the  land,  who  had  let  this  tract  of  eighty 
acres  lie  fallow,  and  paid  no  attention  to  it  during  his 
whole  life,  as  it  lay  at  some  distance  from  his  farmhouse 
and  was  supposed  to  be  of  little  value.  But  the  qualities 
which  roused  the  farmer's  displeasure  were  just  those 
which  delighted  the  poet.  He  had  been  the  owner  of 
the  land  for  several  years  past,  and  had  added  to  the 
original  purchase  another  eighty  acres — bought  partly 
from  his  father,  partly  from  an  uncle.  This  tract  lay  to 
the  southeast  of  the  first,  separated  from  it  by  the  main 
road.  It  contained  an  old  stone  farmhouse,  a  barn, 
stable,  and  dairy  -springhouse. 

Although  we  had  fixed  upon  the  site  for  our  home,  the 
means  for  its  erection  were  still  in  great  part  to  be  sup 
plied,  a  task  by  no  means  difficult  at  a  time  when  east 
and  west  in  this  broad  country  public  lectures  by  promi 
nent  men  were  in  great  demand  and  well  paid  for.  They 
were  a  necessity  to  the  people  of  those  days  and  served 
as  a  means  of  education  to  the  great  middle  stratum  of 
the  population  and  equally  as  a  source  of  entertainment 
to  the  more  cultured.  Bayard  Taylor  had  already  been  a 
popular  lecturer  on  his  return  from  his  travels  in  the 
Orient,  and  had  acquired  a  considerable  sum  of  money  in 
this  way.  The  proposals  for  him  to  deliver  lectures  began 
to  pour  in  upon  him  again  from  all  sides  when  he  had 
hardly  set  foot  upon  his  native  soil.  Great  preparations 
were  not  necessary  to  fulfil  the  expectations  of  the  average 
audience.  The  public  wished  to  hear  from  him  principally 


66  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

how  things  looked  and  happened  in  foreign  countries, 
what  kinds  of  people,  customs,  and  conditions  he  had 
met  with  abroad,  and  what  inferences  he  would  draw 
from  what  he  had  seen.  My  husband  was  not  a  born 
orator,  but  had  adapted  himself  to  the  profitable  tem 
porary  profession  of  a  lecturer,  because  it  was  demanded 
of  him.  His  harmonious  voice  and  smooth  fluent  speech 
were  decidedly  in  his  favour.  The  lectures  were  soon  to 
begin,  and,  with  a  few  short  interruptions,  were  to  con 
tinue  for  several  months.  Before  this  happened  our 
future  house  was  staked  out  and  the  work  of  digging  for 
the  foundations  was  begun.  One  day  we  went  over  to 
the  site  to  inspect  the  progress  made.  It  was  a  wonder 
ful  day  in  November,  and  while  we  were  enjoying  the 
warm  sunshine  and  balmy  air  of  that  latitude,  praising 
anew  the  beautiful  situation  of  the  house-to-be,  we  sud 
denly  were  aware  of  an  eagle  circling  far  above  us  in 
the  blue  sky.  Like  ancient  Romans  we  greeted  his 
appearance  as  a  happy  omen  for  the  future  which  awaited 
us  in  this  place, 

About  this  time  we  heard  that  George  William  Curtis 
was  to  deliver  a  lecture  in  West  Chester,  a  town  fourteen 
miles  distant,  on  " Democracy  and  Education."  As  he 
was  not  only  a  near  friend  of  my  husband,  but  also  had 
the  reputation  of  being  an  excellent  speaker,  it  seemed 
a  matter  of  course  that  we  should  drive  over  to  West 
Chester  and  hear  him.  We  met  him  at  the  inn,  a  hand 
some  man  with  brilliant  gray  eyes,  strong  intellectual 
features,  full  of  character,  light-brown  hair  and  whiskers, 
and  a  tall,  noble  presence  of  winning  gentleness.  Joined 
to  all  this  he  had  a  deep  mellow  voice  which  at  once 
prepossessed  his  audience  in  his  favour.  As  soon  as  he 


OUTRE   HER  67 

entered  the  hall  he  was  received  with  storms  of  applause 
by  the  great  concourse  of  people  that  crowded  the  large 
building.  As  both  he  and  my  husband,  who  walked 
beside  him,  were  popular  authors,  all  eyes  were  centred 
upon  them.  My  two  sisters-in-law  and  I  followed, 
passing  through  the  audience  that  crowded  to  the  right 
and  left  of  us,  until  we  reached  the  platform.  Those 
were  awkward  moments  for  me,  as  I  knew  that  my  hum 
ble  personage  also  was  an  object  of  curiosity.  I  hardly 
dared  raise  my  eyes,  while  my  companions  looked  about 
them  and  noticed  how  the  people  nudged  one  another 
and  whispered:  "Look,  look,  that  is  Bayard's  wife!" 
It  was  the  first  occasion  on  which  I  appeared  in  public 
with  my  husband,  and  although  I  was  to  a  certain  extent 
proud  to  be  the  wife  of  a  distinguished  man,  at  the  same 
time  I  deeply  felt  the  heavy  responsibility  of  such  a 
position.  I  told  myself  how  much  was  expected  of  me 
and  how  little  I  could  offer. 

After  the  lecture  was  over  a  number  of  persons  from 
among  the  audience  came  upon  the  platform  to  be  intro 
duced.  One  of  them  was  the  aged  Dr.  Darlington,*  who 
had  received  the  news  of  my  marriage  with  almost  the 
same  words  as  Alexander  von  Humboldt.  The  latter, 
when  Taylor  told  him  of  his  engagement  to  a  daughter  of 
Hansen,  said  in  his  usual  charming  manner:  "When  you 
visit  me  again  bring  her  with  you.  I  must  be  polite 
enough  to  live  until  then." 

Before  we  started  on  our  drive  home,  at  a  late  hour,  we 
went  into  the  inn  again  with  Curtis.  A  gentleman  and 
two  ladies  were  the  only  other  occupants  of  the  public 

*A  well-known  botanist,  and  author  of  an  excellent  work  on  the 
flora  of  Chester  County,  entitled  "Flora  Cestrica." 


68  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

parlour.  We  paid  no  further  attention  to  them,  as  they 
sat  together  in  a  far  corner  of  the  spacious  room.  Shortly 
after  we  had  seated  ourselves  Taylor  exclaimed  in  his 
usual  lively  way:  "  George,  don't  you  want  something  to 
drink?"  Whereupon  Curtis,  more  on  his  guard  than  his 
impulsive  friend,  answered,  "Do  people  drink  here?" 
"Don't  you  drink  after  lecturing?"  Taylor  replied;  "I 
always  do.  I  drink  a  glass  of  ale."  When,  soon  after, 
the  other  three  guests  left  the  room  Annie  Taylor  began 
laughing  heartily.  "  Do  you  know  who  those  people 
were?"  she  said  to  her  brother,  and  then  mentioned  the 
names  of  a  fanatical  temperance  reformer  and  of  two  of 
his  most  zealous  supporters.  Funny  as  this  was  in  fact, 
it  had  an  awkward  side  also,  since  the  temperance  advo 
cates  are  a  power  in  the  countryside  and  were  able  to  put 
a  not  entirely  abstaining  fellow-mortal  under  the  ban  of 
suspicion  to  such  an  extent  that  he  was  soon  accused  of 
being  given  to  drink  and  utterly  lost.  Scarcely  a  year 
before  a  neighbouring  temperance  orator  had  dared  in  a 
public  speech  to  make  open  allusions  to  Bayard  Taylor's 
sisters  and  brother,  who  had  just  returned  from  Europe, 
saying  it  were  better  that  the  ocean  had  turned  into 
a  sea  of  fire  rather  than  that  young  Americans  had 
learned  to  drink  wine  beyond  its  farther  shore.  Even 
beer  was  condemned  by  these  so-called  reformers,  and 
somewhat  later  a  cousin  of  my  husband,  a  favourite  with 
everyone,  was  expelled  from  the  Temperance  Society 
for  having  drunk  "soft"  cider  (for  having  eaten  an 
apple,  according  to  her  own  laughing  version).  Naturally 
all  this  appeared  very  strange  and  wonderful  to  my 
European  mind. 

Early  in  December  we  left  the  farm  and  went  to  Brook- 


OUTRE   HER  69 

lyn  to  live,  where  we  shared  a  rented  house  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Stoddard.  My  husband  had  made  this  arrange 
ment  so  that  I,  still  a  stranger  to  my  new  country,  should 
have  the  companionship  of  these  trusted  friends  during 
his  absences.  Nor  did  we  separate  in  the  following  win 
ter;  they  accompanied  us  to  New  York,  and  we  kept 
house  together  in  the  latter  city. 

Our  first  Christmas  Eve  in  America  we  celebrated  as 
a  joyous  feast.  I  instituted  the  German  custom,  which 
was  then  almost  unknown  in  this  country,  of  trimming  a 
Christmas  tree  procured  for  me  by  my  husband.  Under 
its  branches,  with  their  many  bright  candles,  lay  the 
presents  which  we  exchanged.  For  our  German  supper  I 
had  brewed  a  bowl  of  cardinal  punch,  which  was  duly 
appreciated,  and  put  Taylor  in  mind  of  Kenyon's  "  Cham 
pagne  Rose,"  the  reciting  of  which  was  followed  by  Stod- 
dard's  reading  a  song  in  praise  of  claret,  by  Alexander 
Brome,  "dead  over  two  hundred  years." 

Soon  after,  my  husband  took  up  his  travels  again,  and 
was  away  more  or  less  until  spring.  When  he  started 
once  more  early  in  January,  after  a  short  stay  in  New 
York,  we  made  an  attempt  to  visit  his  old  patron,  N.  P. 
Willis,*  at  Idlewild-on-the-Hudson,  but  were  obliged  to 
give  up  the  attempt  on  our  way  thither,  on  account  of 
sudden  unusually  cold  weather.  While  my  husband 
continued  on  his  journey,  I  turned  back  to  New  York. 
Next  day  he  wrote  to  me  from  the  little  town  of  Hudson  : 

"  I  feel  a  little  anxious  to  hear  that  you  have  reached 
home  safely,  without  being  frozen.  It  was  well  that  we 

^  *Willis  was  very  fond  of  taking  rising  young  authors  and  poets  under 
his  protecting  wing,  a  fact  which  gave  R.  H.  Stoddard  opportunity 
lor  a  bon-mot:  "Willis,"  he  said,  "was  the  wet  nurse  of  American 
literature." 


70  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

did  not  attempt  to  cross  the  river  yesterday.  The  air 
was  15°  below  zero  on  the  ice,  and  the  wind  almost  took 
my  head  off.  I  crossed  in  a  large  sleigh,  with  eight  persons, 
drawn  by  one  horse,  and  the  ice  was  so  smooth  that  we 
continually  whirled  around  like  a  top.  .  .  .  However, 
I  reached  Kingston  in  season,  and  notwithstanding  the 
weather,  had  an  audience  of  600  persons — the  largest 
of  the  season.  This  morning  we  had  14°  below  zero, 
but  now  it  has  risen  to  4°  above,  and  promises  a  snow 
storm.  The  cold  was  the  greatest  ever  known  in  New 
York,  so  you  know  how  cold  it  can  be." 

Very  different  was  the  tenor  of  another  letter  of 
March  i3th  from  Detroit: 

"  I  reached  here  at  eleven  o'clock  last  night,  and  read 
your  three  letters  before  going  to  bed.  The  news  from 
home — the  description  of  Lily's  growth  and  development 
— and  the  thought  of  seeing  you  so  soon,  kept  me  awake 
for  a  long  time.  To-day  I  have  been  perfectly  lazy  and 
happy — the  weather  is  divine ;  no  other  word  will  express 
it.  We  had  no  day  in  Athens  lovelier  than  this.  Not  a 
cloud  in  the  sky,  the  air  a  luxury  to  breathe,  and  the 
lake  here  sparkling  like  the  ^Egaean  Sea!" 

In  the  course  of  the  year  I  twice  accompanied  my 
husband  on  lecturing  journeys,  which  gave  me  an  oppor 
tunity  to  become  acquainted  with  wide  regions  of  the 
country.  In  the  spring  he  took  me  with  him  into  the 
Middle  West,  and  in  August  we  took  passage  together 
for  California.  Both  trips  were  full  of  new  and  interesting 
sights;  the  impressions  which  I  received  are  faithfully 
reflected  in  the  notes  of  my  travels  which  I  wrote  down 
for  my  parents.  They  were  penned  many  years  ago,  and 
describe  conditions  and  scenes  which  have  long  ceased  to 


OUTRE   MER  71 

exist  or  have  yielded  to  a  new  and   more  civilised  life. 
For  this  reason  some  extracts  may  be  of  interest. 

"May,  1859. — The  sun  rose  gloriously  as  the  train 
carried  us  into  the  beautiful  wild  forest  regions  of  Ohio. 
For  many,  many  miles  forest  and  nothing  but  forest, 
which  the  railway  traverses  almost  in  a  straight  line. 
Since  the  road  was  built  people  have  begun  to  clear  the 
virgin  growth  here  and  there;  settlers  who  could  find  no 
home  anywhere  else  came,  and  with  their  axes  and  the 
help  of  fire  won  the  ground  on  which  to  build  their  log 
cabins  and  to  plow  their  first  plot  of  land.  Some  pioneers 
had  achieved  a  green  field,  while  others  still  had  the 
gigantic  task  before  them,  having  accomplished  only  the 
building  of  a  miserable  hut  surrounded  by  the  smouldering 
trunks  of  trees.  At  other  places  better  results  had  been 
obtained.  Little  villages  had  sprung  up,  and  comfort 
seemed  to  walk  hand  in  hand  with  labour.  But  between 
them  stretched  the  most  luxuriant,  the  greenest  forest, 
untouched  by  the  hand  of  man,  where  Nature  had  held 
undisputed  sway  for  thousands  of  years,  and  had  de 
stroyed  or  built  up  as  primeval  laws  had  dictated. 
Through  the  whole  of  Ohio  and  Indiana  we  had  this 
magnificent  mysterious  woodland  almost  constantly 
on  either  hand.  Toward  evening  the  trees  began  to 
grow  more  sparse  and  finally  merged  into  an  extensive 
meadow  land,  whose  treacherous  green  sprang  from  a 
marshy  soil.  Then  followed  more  woods,  and  once  in 
a  while  a  still,  motionless  lake,  until  gloomy  waters  came 
into  view  on  both  sides  of  the  track,  while  the  sun  was 
sinking  in  glowing  tones  of  red  and  orange.  Along  the 
northern  horizon  lay  a  bluish  streak,  which  showed  us 
that  we  were  not  far  distant  from  Lake  Michigan." 

"  (Two  days  later.)  Our  road  to-day  lay  through  the 
'rolling'  prairie.  A  peculiar  feeling  of  freedom  and  of 


72  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

peacefulness  lays  hold  of  the  spectator.  Toward  every 
point  of  the  compass  the  prairie  seems  limitless.  No 
where  does  the  eye  meet  with  a  check ;  no  fence,  no  hedge 
marks  a  boundary;  the  horses  and  cattle  graze  unre 
stricted,  or  the  herd,  pausing  beside  a  small  brook,  seeks 
the  shade  of  some  nearby  oaks,  lies  in  the  grass,  or  stands 
in  the  water  cooling  its  flanks  in  the  clear  stream.  The  eye 
of  the  traveller  wanders  from  this  idyllic  picture  to  the 
long,  swelling  lines  of  the  prairie  fading  away  into  the  dim 
horizon,  and  it  will  seldom  meet  with  a  sight  more  lovely." 

"  On  the  evening  of  the  second  day  we  went  aboard 
the  small  steamer  which  was  to  carry  us  up  the  Missis 
sippi  to  St. Paul.  The  trip,  which  occupied  several  days 
— the  boat  steamed  between  the  low  and  sparsely  settled 
banks  of  the  river  and  past  numerous  small  green  is 
lands — was  not  without  its  charm. — Saturday  evening 
we  finally  arrived  in  St.  Paul.  The  ten-year-old  city, 
with  its  10,000  inhabitants,  rises  in  a  series  of  ter 
races  on  both  sides  of  the  broad  river.  As  in  all  these 
new  towns  of  the  West,  the  dwelling  houses  are  built 
separately,  scattered  over  a  disproportionately  large 
area.  Here  also  everything  is  still  in  the  rough  and 
incomplete;  it  is  evident  that  the  buildings  were  put 
up  in  haste,  and  that  the  settlers  had  an  eye  more  to 
business  profit  than  to  comfort  and  convenience.  I  know 
of  nothing  more  uncongenial  than  such  a  youthful  city, 
much  as  I  admire  the  courage  and  energy  to  which  it  ' 
owes  its  existence.  St.  Anthony,  not  far  distant,  with  its 
falls  of  the  Mississippi  reminding  me  of  the  Rhine  falls 
at  Schaffhausen,  and  the  four-year-old  town  of  Minne 
apolis  across  the  river,  are  situated  at  the  end  of  civilisa 
tion.  North  of  these  two  places  the  only  inhabitants  are 
Indians,  bears  and  wolves." 

It  was  our  turning  point,  and  after  an  absence  of  four 
weeks  we  were  at  last  again  united  with  our  little  daughter 


OUTRE   HER  73 

at  the  old  farm  near  Kennett  Square.  During  the  follow 
ing  month  my  husband  was  occupied  with  literary  work, 
at  the  same  time  superintending  the  building  of  our 
house.  Not  long  after  our  return  the  cornerstone  was  laid. 
The  building  after  that  progressed  rapidly  and  con 
sumed  a  much  larger  sum  of  money  than  its  builder 
had  calculated;  therefore,  when  in  the  course  of  the 
summer  he  received  a  most  favourable  offer  to  deliver 
a  series  of  lectures  in  San  Francisco,  he  accepted  for  the 
sake  of  the  remuneration.  The  lecture  committee  of 
that  city  was  willing  to  pay  him  his  travelling  expenses 
and  $1,500  for  four  lectures,  with  the  privilege  of  making 
engagements  of  a  similar  nature  in  other  towns  in  Cali 
fornia.  About  the  beginning  of  August  we  left  our  twelve 
months '-old  baby  in  the  care  of  her  grandmother  and 
aunts  and  set  out  upon  our  long  ocean  journey  by  way 
of  the  Isthmus  of  Panama — a  wonderfully  beautiful 
voyage,  particularly  upon  the  Pacific.  On  this  side 
of  Panama  one  of  our  fellow-passengers  was  Commodore 
Montgomery,  an  agreeable  old  gentleman.  While  we 
were  gliding  over  the  waters  of  the  Caribbean  Sea,  under 
a  tropical  full  moon — "ringed  with  gay  rainbows" — he 
told  us  how  he  was  the  first  to  plant  the  American  colours 
in  California  in  1846.  He  was  then  a  captain  in  the 
navy,  under  command  of  Commodore  Slod,  whose 
squadron  lay  before  Mazatlan,  in  Mexico,  where  the 
English  were  also  anchored.  As  there  were  rumours 
abroad  of  a  war  between  the  United  States  and  Mexico, 
the  Americans  were  only  waiting  for  a  suitable  opportu 
nity  to  take  possession  of  California,  which  was  sparsely 
settled  by  Mexicans.  But  they  were  not  the  only  nation 
with  an  eye  to  this  goodly  land.  Mexico  was  deep  in 


74  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

debt  to  England,  and  for  this  reason  the  English  con 
sidered  that  they  had  a  right  to  California  as  a  pledge. 
This  was  the  state  of  affairs,  when  Commodore  Slod 
suddenly  gave  orders  to  his  fleet  to  sail  for  South  America. 
With  secret  joy  the  English,  watching  from  the  decks  of 
their  frigates,  saw  the  sails  of  the  American  ships  one 
after  another  disappear  beyond  the  southern  horizon, 
and  believed  that  now  was  the  proper  moment  to  throw 
out  their  drag-net  and  haul  in  their  beautiful  prize. 
But  what  was  their  astonishment  when  they  cast  anchor 
before  Monterey  to  find  the  Stars  and  Stripes  floating 
above  the  Mexican  fort !  As  soon  as  the  Commodore  was 
out  of  sight  of  land,  instead  of  keeping  his  course  south 
ward,  he  ordered  his  squadron  to  about  ship  and  sail  for 
the  north.  Montgomery  with  his  frigate  was  sent  ahead.  He 
found  the  population  of  Monterey  in  revolt  and  inclined  to 
side  with  the  Americans,  and  taking  advantage  of  this  state 
of  popular  feeling,  in  accordance  with  his  instructions,  he 
succeeded  in  hoisting  the  Star  Spangled  Banner  upon  the 
Mexican  fort  without  stroke  of  sword,  thus  taking  posses 
sion  of  California  in  the  name  of  the  United  States. 

The  balmy  climate,  the  glorious  city  of  San  Francisco 
enthroned  upon  her  hills,  the  beauty  of  the  seacoast, 
enhanced  by  the  classic  outlines  of  the  near  and  distant 
mountains — all  combined  to  awaken  a  sense  of  delight  and 
exhilaration  such  as  I  had  not  anticipated.  Even 
Taylor,  who  had  been  in  California  in  1849,  and  had  seen 
the  earliest  stages  of  her  development,  received  an 
absolutely  new  impression.  After  looking  around  he 
exclaimed  in  astonishment:  "Here  we  have  Spanish, 
African,  Greek  and  Palestinian  elements  in  the  landscape, 
all  at  the  same  time!" 


OUTRE   HER  75 

Intervals  of  several  weeks  elapsed  between  the  lectures 
in  San  Francisco.  Meanwhile  my  husband  spoke  in  the 
large  and  small  towns  before  audiences  of  the  most 
diverse  character,  before  educated  people,  settlers  from 
the  Eastern  states,  as  well  as  before  gold  miners  and 
rough-looking  men.  I  accompanied  him  on  his  expedi 
tions  into  the  wildest  regions,  sometimes  in  the  old- 
fashioned  stage  coach,  sometimes  in  a  comfortable 
carriage,  and  several  times  up  in  the  Sierra  Nevada  on 
horseback,  where  adventures,  funny  and  serious,  were  not 
lacking.  In  the  large  district  of  the  gold  mines  I  had 
occasion  to  witness  the  four  different  methods  of  obtaining 
the  precious  metal.  In  order  to  see  the  interior  of  a  gold 
mine  I  had  to  submit  to  be  shot  down  a  steep  incline, 
crouched  in  a  tiny  car,  into  the  depths  200  feet  below. 

But  I  pass  over  all  our  diverse  experiences  and  hasten 
homeward,  back  to  our  child,  whom  we  joyfully  clasped 
in  our  arms  again  in  the  month  of  November. 

After  a  short  stay  at  the  farm  we  settled  in  New  York, 
where  the  house  was  ready  for  us,  and  I  began  to  ac 
climatise  myself  socially  during  this  and  the  following 
winter.  New  York,  although  a  metropolis  in  those  days, 
was,  after  all,  a  small  city  in  comparison  to  its  present 
importance  and  extent.  The  changes  of  all  kinds  that 
have  taken  place  in  the  last  forty  years  are  such  that  the 
younger  generation  of  to-day  can  have  no  conception  of 
things  as  they  then  were.  The  development  of  the  whole 
country  went  hand  in  hand  with  that  of  New  York. 
After  the  Civil  War  a  number  of  men  became  multi 
millionaires  and  plutocracy  increased  more  and  more. 
Under  the  influence  of  these  colossal  fortunes  and  of  the 
ever-increasing  flood  of  immigration  the  rich  resources 


76  ON   TWO   CONTINENTvS 

of  the  land  were  rapidly  exploited  and  the  building  of 
the  transcontinental  railways  joined  the  Pacific  to  the 
Atlantic  Ocean.  The  vast  regions  in  the  centre  of  the 
country,  hitherto  inaccessible,  were  populated,  and  the 
great  West,  which  now  represents  a  power  in  the  land,  was 
born.  When  I  made  my  debut  in  New  York  no  one 
suspected  that  these  changes  would  come  to  pass.  People 
felt  only  a  faint  premonition  of  the  grand  development  of 
the  nation.  The  international  relations  with  Europe 
were  not  close,  and  every-day  life,  as  well  as  many 
social  usages,  manifested  strongly  the  primitive  character 
of  their  civilisation.  In  those  days  great  simplicity 
prevailed,  even  in  the  well-to-do  families  of  New  York, 
in  their  mode  of  life  and  the  furnishing  of  their  houses. 
The  exclusive  circle  of  descendants  of  aristocratic  families 
from  Colonial  times  (mostly  of  Dutch  origin)  had  not 
yet  been  pushed  to  the  wall  by  the  plutocrats  and  formed 
the  self-constituted  elite  of  society.  Equally  eminent 
was  the  small  group  of  intellectual  and  genial  men  and 
women,  masters  of  the  pen,  the  brush  and  the  chisel. 
Among  these  freedom  of  mind,  agreeable  manners,  good 
taste,  a  sparkling  wit  and  lively,  suggestive  conversation 
reigned  supreme. 

Such  was  the  society  into  which  I  was  introduced. 
But  when  I  recall  the  acquaintances  and  friends  whom 
I  knew  in  those  years,  whose  names  for  the  most  part 
have  a  well-known  and  a  pleasant  sound  in  their  native 
land,  with  few  exceptions  they  are  now  but 

"A   memory   and    a   name." 

Poets,  authors  and  artists  were  welcomed  in  our  always 
hospitable  house,  and  Stoddard  wrote  in  later  years  of 


OUTRE   HER  77 

that  time:  "We  were  a  nest  of  singing  birds."  George 
H.  Boker,  whose  drama  "Francesca  da  Rimini"  was 
just  being  enacted,  sometimes  dropped  in  from  Phila 
delphia;  T.  B.  Aldrich,  who  had  made  his  debut  as  a  poet, 
was  a  frequent  guest,  and  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman 
soon  after  became  a  member  of  our  circle  and  one  of  our 
nearest  friends.  Taylor  one  day  announced  him  to 
Stoddard  as  a  new  poet,  whose  acquaintance  he  had 
just  made.  "A  new  poet?"  said  Stoddard,  shrugging 
his  shoulders;  "and  what  has  he  written?"  "'The 
Diamond  Wedding,'"  was  the  answer;  "the  poem  which 
you  read  yesterday  in  the  paper.  And  I  have  invited 
him  to  visit  us,  for  I  know  you  will  like  him."  *  Charles 
G.  Leland,  the  painter  Thomas  Hicks,  with  their  wives, 
Fitz-Hugh  Ludlow  and  his  wife  (afterward  Mrs.  Albert 
Bierstadt)  belonged  to  our  inner  coterie,  to  which  were 
later  added  Jervis  McEntee  and  his  charming  wife,  and 
Sanford  R.  Gifford,  both  landscape  painters  and  genial 
men.  Another  guest  of  the  early  times  was  Orlando  W. 
Wight  (the  translator  of  "Heloise  and  Abelard"),  who 
had  a  funny  habit,  when  addressing  anyone,  of  laying 
his  white-gloved  hand  upon  his  heart  with  a  sigh  and 
a  flourish. 

I  very  soon  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mrs.  Botta,f 
and  met  the  sisters  Susan  and  Anna  Warner  at  one  of  her 
evening  receptions.  The  literary  productions  of  the 
former  (under  the  pen  name  of  Elizabeth  Wetherell), 

*From  Stoddard 's  speech  at  a  dinner  given  in  honour  of  Stedman 
in  1899.  According  to  Stedman 's  own  recollection,  his  poem  about 
John  Brown  was  the  one  that  gave  him  Bayard  Taylor's  friendship, 
after  the  latter  had  chanced  to  read  it  on  one  of  his  Western  trips. 

f  Miss  Anne  Lynch,  noted  in  early  life  for  her  poems  and  her  literary 
salon,  was  married  to  Vincenzo  Botta,  of  Turin,  who  received  the  title 
of  Commendatore  from  Victor  Emanuel  in  the  seventies. 


78  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

"The  Wide,  Wide  World"  and  "Queechy,"  books  that 
are  now  not  wholly  forgotten,  enjoyed  a  wide  popularity, 
and  had  even  penetrated  to  Germany,  where  I  had  read 
them.  The  two  ladies,  no  longer  in  the  heyday  of  youth, 
lived  upon  an  island  in  the  Hudson  opposite  West  Point, 
but  came  to  New  York  occasionally.  They  were  feted 
on  account  of  their  literary  renown,  especially  by  those 
who  were  in  sympathy  with  the  pious  tendencies  of  their 
works. 

Miss  Susan,  the  elder,  was  so  firmly  persuaded  of 
the  infallibility  of  her  religious  views  that  after  making 
the  acquaintance  of  Thackeray,  when  he  came  to  New 
York  in  1856,  she  said  of  him  one  evening  at  a  party: 
"  He  is  an  excellent  man,  but  there  is  a  whole  world  he 
knows  nothing  of — a  world  which  I  know."  Later  in 
the  evening,  when  refreshments  were  served,  Mrs. 
Stoddard  made  one  of  her  witty  remarks  at  the  expense 
of  the  Misses  Warner.  Alluding  to  the  long  necks  of 
these  ladies,  she  whispered  to  my  husband:  "Look  at 
the  giraffes  grazing!" 

Of  other  notabilities  I  must  not  omit  the  sisters  Alice 
and  Phoebe  Gary,  who  were  esteemed  for  themselves  as 
well  as  for  their  writings.  Greeley  was  one  of  their 
admirers  and  intimate  friends,  and  rarely  missed  one  of 
their  social  evening  parties.  Spiritualism  had  many 
adherents  in  those  days,  and  the  sisters,  who  were  inclined 
to  place  credence  in  its  manifestations,  frequently  held 
seances  at  their  home.  Strange  tales  were  told  of  the 
happenings  on  these  occasions.  I  was  never  sufficiently 
curious  to  take  part  in  one  of  these  meetings,  and  the 
attempts  of  Mrs.  Greeley  to  win  me  over  to  spiritualism 
were  without  avail.  Everyone  who  knew  the  latter 


OUTRE   MER  79 

knows  also  what  a  peculiar  woman  she  was.  The  very 
first  winter  that  I  spent  in  New  York  she  wished  to 
make  my  acquaintance,  and  extended  an  invitation  to 
me  to  come  to  one  of  her  receptions,  which  I  ac 
cepted  for  Greeley's  sake.  When  I  arrived  with  my 
companions  we  found  the  latter  alone  in  the  drawing- 
room;  some  other  guests  appeared,  but  Mrs.  Greeley 
was  not  in  evidence.  Her  husband  was  visibly  embar 
rassed,  and  sent  to  inform  her  of  our  presence,  doing 
his  utmost  in  the  meantime  to  play  the  amiable  host, 
and  every  few  minutes  expressing  the  hope  that  his 
wife  would  soon  come  down.  The  evening  passed  and 
we  were  on  the  point  of  taking  our  departure  when 
Mrs.  Greeley  appeared  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  After 
exchanging  a  few  words  with  her  we  left  the  house. 
In  this  and  other  similar  trials  Greeley  never  for  a 
moment  lost  the  saintly  patience  with  which  he  treated 
his  wife. 

I  met  William  Cullen  Bryant,  the  aged  poet  with  the 
Homeric  head,  at  one  of  the  always  popular  soirees  in  the 
house  of  Dr.  Edward  Robinson,  the  author  of  a  celebrated 
topographical  work  on  Palestine.  His  talented  German 
wife*  when  a  young  girl,  had  published  a  translation  of 
Servian  folks-songs  under  the  name  of  Talvy,  and  had 
thereby  earned  the  distinction  of  a  laudatory  remark 
from  Goethe.f 

During  these  experiences  in  society  I  was  deprived  of 
the  companionship  of  my  husband,  who  was  heroically 
earning  the  means  for  building  our  house  by  lecturing  in 
distant  towns.  During  his  frequent  absences  we  sought 

*  A  daughter  of  Dr.  von  Jacob,  of  Halle. 

f  Eckermann's  "Gesprache  mit  Goethe,"  Vol.  I,  page  130. 


8o  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

to  comfort  each,  other  by  the  exchange  of  almost  daily 
letters.  In  one  of  these  he  replied  to  a  passage  in  a 
letter  of  mine: 

"I  am  curious  to  see  Stedman's  Penelope.  Don't 
compare  yourself  to  that  old  Greek  strong-minded  female. 
You  may  have  her  constancy  (I  believe  you  have)  and, 
like  her,  spend  twenty  years  on  one  piece  of  crochet-work 
— but  I  am  not  a  Ulysses,  for  all  that,  and  I  don't  want 
you  to  have  suitors  during  my  absence,  as  she  had." 

My  husband  could  never  under  any  circumstances 
renounce  his  humorous  vein,  of  which  his  letters  furnish 
abundant  proof.  In  the  winter  months  of  1859  to  1862 
he  often  solaced  himself  on  his  travels  by  sending  home 
long  accounts  of  his  adventures  by  the  way,  of  queer 
occurrences  that  could  hardly  happen  nowadays,  when 
the  population  at  large  has  grown  less  simple  minded. 
Here  is  one  of  them: 

"I  shall  not  describe  the  day's  jaunt,  further  than  to 
relate  to  you  The  Triumph  of  Weidenfeld !  *  On  reaching 
a  village  called  Middletown,  we  discovered  that  one  of  the 
tires  was  broken,  and  stopped  to  have  it  mended.  I  was 
sitting  in  the  tavern,  where  various  Sunday  loafers  were 
congregated,  when  one  of  them  came  up  to  me  suddenly, 
drew  his  chair  beside  me,  sat  down,  lifted  up  the  tail  of  my 
overcoat,  spread  it  over  his  knee  and  began  to  examine  it. 
'Well,'  said  he,  'that  you  might  call  a  coat!  I  swan,  it 
makes  my  mouth  water.'  Another  man  spoke  up  and 
said :  '  I  seed  what  it  was  jest  from  looking  at  the  back 
of  it.  It  took  right  hold  of  my  heart! '  Then  began  the 
exclamations — '  What  is  the  name  of  that  cloth? '  '  Why, 
it's  tough  as  buckskin,  and  tight  as  injy-rubber ! '  '  Lined 

*  A  fashionable  tailor  at  that  time. 


OUTRE   MER  81 

with  silk  all  through!'  'There  hain't  been  no  sich 
coat  seen  in  these  diggins  before!'  'Would  you  object 
to  stand  up,  like,  and  show  how  it  hangs  ? '  The  price  of 
it  rather  staggered  them,  for  they  all  seemed  inclined  to 
get  just  such  coats  for  themselves.  When  the  tire  was 
mended,  they  all  came  out  into  the  road,  and  their  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  the  coat  until  we  drove  off." 

From  Pittsburg  my  husband  wrote,  January  2pth: 

"  I  have  had  a  hard  time  this  week — took  cold  on 
Monday,  which  made  me  very  hoarse,  and  have  been 
howling  and  barking  huskily  at  the  audiences.  Drink 
red  pepper  tea  in  a  bottle  every  hour  or  two — people 
think  it  brandy.  .  .  .  Talk  in  tragic  whispers, 
which  has  a  solemn  effect.  .  .  .  Popularity  tre 
mendous — people  come  forty-eight  miles  through  the 
mud  to  hear  me — mothers  hold  up  their  infants  to  look 
upon  the  great  man,  or  hand  them  over  to  be  kissed, 
owing  to  which  my  moustache  is  full  of  molasses." 

Another  time  he  said : 

"You  would  never  guess  that  merchants,  livery- 
stable  keepers,  mechanics  and  day  laborers  are  among 
my  admirers.  The  crowd  was  composed  entirely  of  such. 
The  baggage  man  on  the  train  said  to  everybody,  'B.  T. 
is  in  the  car — he  is  a  big  writer.'  'What  did  he  write?' 
asked  a  man.  'I  don't  know  what  it  was,'  was  the 
reply,  but  he's  the  biggest  kind  of  a  writer! ' " 

In  a  letter  from  Springfield,  111.,  occurs  this  anecdote: 

"  I  gave  the  driver  my  little  wicker-bottle  occasionally, 
in  order  to  make  the  horses  go  faster.  He  told  me  a 
good  story  of  some  Eastern  man,  who  travelled  in  Illinois 


82  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

twenty  years  ago,  'when  the  liquor  was  wuss  than  it 
is  now.'  This  man  reached  a  tavern  one  night  after  a 
hard  day's  ride  and  called  for  brandy.  There  was  a 
nigger  sitting  in  the  bar-room,  whom  he  called  tip  to  the 
bar  to  take  a  drink.  The  darkey  poured  out  half  a  glass 
of  brandy  and  drank  it — the  traveller  let  the  bottle  stand. 
'Well,'  said  the  landlord,  'ain't  you  a-goin'  to  drink,  too?' 
'I'm  going  to  wait  twenty  minutes,'  he  answered,  'and 
if  it  don't  kill  the  nigger,  I'll  take  some  myself." 

The     following    letter    I    quote     entire,    for    obvious 
reasons : 

"My  dearest  wife, 
Upon  my  life 

I  am  not  particularly  inspired 
To  write  when  I  am  tired. 
However,  this  will  tell  you 
That  I  do  not  expel  you 
From  my  thoughts  when  away, 
By  night  or  by  day. 
I  lectured  last  night  in  Homer, 
(What  a  misnomer)! 
And  to-day  have  driven  miles  thirty, 
Over  a  road  exceedingly  dirty, 
To  this  place,  where  I  lecture, 
So  you  must  not  expect  your 
Husband  to  write  more  which 
He  can  send  from  Norwich. 
To-morrow   I   go   to   Sherburne 
(Probably  in  a  dearborn), 
And  on  Friday  to  Oswego — 
Hardly  a  place  where  you'd  have  me  go — 
But  now  there's  no  assuagement 
Since  I've  once  made  the  engagement, 
And  on  Friday  to  Cortland, 
Which  is  rather  a  short  land 


OUTRE   HER  83 

To  reach  from  the  latter, 

And  so  it's  not  much  matter. 

On  Saturday,  as  I  told  you, 

I  shall  once  more  behold  you. 

I  find  that  the  best  train 

Is  the  morning  express  train, 

Which  leaves  Binghamton  at  1 120, 

And  gives  me  time  enough,  plenty, 

To  get  over  the  Hudson 

Betore  you've  got  your  duds  done 

On   Saturday   evening, 

So  you  needn't  be  grievening. 

Do  not  the  door  fasten, 

Because  I  shall  come  at  J  past  10, 

And,  as  we  don't  live  in  cloisters, 

You  may  get  a  few  oysters 

And  make  a  gentle  stew, 

Which  I  shall  enjoy  with  you. 

I'm  in  good  health  and  spirits, 

And  you'll  be  glad  to  hear  it's 

Mighty  fine  weather  at  last, 

Since  the  rain  is  past. 

Write  according  to  my  direction, 

And  don't  disappoint  my  expection, 

So  shall  I  love  you  as  formerly, 

Only  much  warmerly, 

And  hope  you'll  never  find  it  a  cussed  band 

Which  unites  you  to  your  husband, 

"B.  T. 

"Give  my  love,  heavy  and  thick 
To  Lizzy  and  Dick." 


Taylor  would  always  round  out  and  amplify  the 
incidents  of  his  trips  upon  his  return  home.  Among 
other  things,  the  names  he  collected  were  almost  incred 
ible.  One  day  he  encountered  a  woman  whose  Christian 


84  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

name  was  "Lettice,  with  the  surname  Pray."  Another 
time  a  man  introduced  his  little  son  as  follows:  "We 
call  him  Napoleon,  and  his  little  sister  we  have  named 
St.  Helena,  after  Napoleon's  wife." 

In  the  winter  of  1860,  when  Taylor  again  delivered  a 
lecture  in  Detroit,  he  found  to  his  great  delight  that  the 
room  which  was  assigned  to  him  had  a  "crimson  velvet 
carpet  and  curtains,  rosewood  furniture,  hot  and  cold 
water  cocks  and  spring  mattress!"  .  .  .  "We  must 
have  a  velvet  carpet  in  our  bedroom — it  is  so  pleasant  to 
the  bare  feet,"  was  his  comment. 

Such  a  carpet  and  a  crimson  velvet  dressing  gown 
were  the  refrain  of  an  oft-expressed  wish  of  his  that 
never  was  realised.  Susceptible  as  he  was  to  the  ameni 
ties  of  life,  his  habits  remained  simple  and  frugal.  His 
personal  wants  were  few,  and  he  spent  very  little  on 
himself,  only  succumbing  to  the  temptation  of  a  work 
of  art  or  a  rare  book  which  he  could  not  always  resist. 
He  delighted  also  in  fresh  flowers  or  fine  fruit  in  winter 
and  spared  no  expense  in  providing  them. 

About  this  time,  in  the  winter  of  1860,  the  reports 
that  he  received  anent  the  cost  of  our  house  began  to 
frighten  him.  It  was  evident  that  the  contractor  was  not 
as  trustworthy  as  he  had  been  represented.  In  January 
my  husband  wrote  to  me: 

"I  have  the  pleasure  of  informing  you  that  our  house 
will  cost  considerably  more  than  I  reckoned  upon.  It  has 
already  consumed  just  $13,000,  and  $2,000  more  will 
scarcely  cover  the  rest." 

At  the  same  time  the  poetic  fervour  began  to  manifest 
itself  strongly  again.  On  March  i8th  he  wrote: 


OUTRE   MER  85 

"I  am  also  much  occupied,  mentally,  with  my  poems. 
I  am  fully  resolved  upon  writing  a  great  many,  and  the 
character  of  them  becomes  clearer  and  warmer  as  the 
time  approaches.  You  must  allow  me  to  keep  silent  on 
this  one  point — it  is  a  poetical  idiosyncrasy  which  I  cannot 
overcome.  You  will  see  them  first  of  any  one,  after  they 
are  written." 

And  again  on  the  3oth: 

"I  commenced  a  poem  on  reaching  here,  and  became 
so  absorbed  in  it  that  I  forgot  to  write  to  you  until  this 
moment.  I  must  be  quick,  as  the  lecture  hour  has 
arrived.  .  .  .  Don't  forget  to  go  to  Westermann 
and  order  Humboldt's  letters  to  V.  von  Ense  for  me. 
I  must  have  them.  Oh,  what  I  lost,  not  knowing  of 
Appleton's  sale.  I  wanted  Purchas  His  Pilgrims,  and  it 
went  so  cheap!" 

Soon  after  my  husband  sent  me  two  poems  for  safe 
keeping.  One  was  "The  Fountain  of  Trevi,"  which  he 
hoped  would  please  me  well.  As  soon  as  he  was  at  home 
again  these  poems  were  followed  at  short  intervals  by 
others,  among  them  the  first  of  the  Pennsylvania  Ballads, 
"The  Quaker  Widow."  And  when  he  was  finally  settled 
in  his  own  house,  "  the  freshet  of  song,"  that  had  all  along 
been  giving  signs  of  its  approach,  set  in. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  NEW  HOMESTEAD 

THE  house  was  a  stately  mansion  built  of  natural 
brick,  with  cornerstones  of  silver-gray  granite  and 
broad  verandas  on  both  sides  of  a  large  arched  window 
projecting  on  the  southern  front.  In  the  second  story 
two  balconies  rested  upon  the  entire  length  and  breadth 
of  these  porches.  Spring  was  abroad  in  the  land,  and 
summer  not  far  distant,  when  we  set  up  our  Lares  in  our 
own  home.  Joyous  budding  and  blossoming  were  going 
on  all  about  us,  and  it  was  a  delight  to  step  out  upon  the 
terrace  before  the  house  in  the  early  morning  and  to  let 
the  eye  rest  upon  the  gently  sloping  lawn  with  its  groups 
of  cedars.  The  luxuriant  foliage  of  the  high  trees — oaks, 
chestnuts,  sassafras,  tulip,  walnut  and  gum  trees,  that 
hedged  in  the  lawn  on  both  sides  in  natural  beauty  of 
arrangement — glittered  with  dew  in  the  morning  sun 
light.  The  air,  soft  and  mild — for  the  Northland  and  the 
South  mingle  here, 

".     .     .     where  the  sprays  of  the  elm  first  touch  the 

plumes  of  the  cypress,"* 

was  laden  with  the  scent  of  exuberant  vegetation,  and  at 
the  same  time  refreshing  in  its  balmy  purity.  Descending 
from  the  terrace  and  wandering  on  the  soft  turf  of  the 
woods,  our  native  flora  soon  offered  us  a  fair  nosegay  of 

*"Home  Pastorals.'' 

86 


THE  NEW  HOMESTEAD  87 

anemones,  hepaticas,  pink  azaleas,  yellow  violets,  and 
those  strange,  ghostly  flowers,  the  Indian  pipes.  A  little 
farther  on,  beyond  the  highway,  stood  the  old  stone  farm 
house  that  had  originally  belonged  to  the  family,  and 
now  was  a  part  of  our  property.  A  few  rods  more  and 
our  farthest  wood  was  reached,  where  at  the  foot  of 
a  ridge  a  brook  babbled  and  gurgled  between  fern-clad 
rocks,  overhung  by  the  mysterious  shade  of  magnificent 
old  beeches, 

" .     .     .     where  the  dircus  flung 
His  pliant  rod,  the  berried  spicewood  grew."  * 

Turning  homeward  from  this  idyllic  woodland  spot,  we 
could  make  a  detour  toward  the  western  part  of  our 
property,  where  a  long  row  of  tulip  trees  covered  with 
thousands  of  yellow  cups  reared  their  crowns  skyward,  like 
giant  sentinels  of  field  and  wood.  This  circuit,  extended  as 
it  was,  had  not  led  our  steps  to  the  confines  of  our  domain, 
which  resembled  an  English  park  in  its  variety  of  landscape. 
Writing  to  my  mother,  I  described  our  home  thus: 

"The  house  is  spacious,  cool,  airy  and  comfortable. 
I  have  a  large  family  to  provide  for.  There  are  eight 
of  us,  not  counting  the  child  and  four  servants.  In  spite 
of  the  latter,  there  is  much  for  me  to  do — much  to  look 
after  and  superintend ;  and  especially  there  are  numerous 
visitors  to  be  entertained.  People  come  from  far  and 
near  to  take  a  look  at  our  house,  and  owing  to  the  great 
number  of  relatives  and  friends  of  whom  Bayard  and  his 
parents  are  possessed  in  the  neighbourhood,  we  have  many 
guests  and  dispense  hospitality  plentifully." 

The  large  family  that  was  gathered  together  under  our 
'  *"The  Poet's  Journal." 


88  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

roof  owed  its  numbers  to  the  fact  that  Taylor  had  taken, 
with  my  consent,  his  aged  parents  and  two  sisters  into  our 
new  house  to  make  it  their  home  henceforth.  Besides  these, 
we  had  during  the  summer  two  guests  from  my  old  home, 
my  Aunt  and  Uncle  Bufleb,  who  had  come  across  the  ocean 
to  visit  us.  Our  house  was  thus  a  hospitable  one  from  the 
first  day  of  our  tenancy,  and  so  it  remained  until  the  end. 
There  were  days — "honey-bee  days,"  as  an  old  squaw 
(the  last  survivor  of  the  Delaware  Indians) ,  who  lived 
in  the  vicinity,  called  them — when  carriageloads  of 
visitors,  one  after  another,  drove  up  to  the  door,  as  if 
by  previous  agreement;  often  they  stayed  to  dinner  or 
to  supper.  Neither  were  less  transient  guests  wanting  in 
all  the  years  that  we  spent  in  our  home.  The  Stoddards, 
husband  and  wife,  with  their  little  son  Willie,  often 
spent  several  weeks  at  a  time  with  us,  and  this  first 
summer  also  they  were  our  guests.  A  comedy,  written 
by  our  two  poets,  Stoddard  and  Taylor,  was  enacted,  and 
our  property  was  christened  "Cedarcroft." 

While  it  became  my  task  gradually  to  make  the  house 
more  homelike,  and  to  regulate  the  household  (an  under 
taking  not  always  easy,  on  account  of  habits  and  ways 
of  living  to  which  I  was  unaccustomed,  and  with  indiffer 
ent  servants)  my  husband  at  last  could  relieve  himself 
of  the  poetic  conceptions  he  had  carried  with  him  mentally 
so  long,  and  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  "The  Poet's 
Journal."  During  the  whole  month  of  June  and  longer 
the  Muse  held  him  enchained,  until  at  last  he  could  sing : 

"Come,  for  my  task  is  done."  * 
It  was  one  of  Bayard  Taylor's  peculiarities,  as  he  had 

*From  the  dedication,  "To  the  Mistress  of  Cedarcroft." 


THE   NEW  HOMESTEAD  89 

written  to  me  during  the  winter,  that  he  was  not  able  to 
express  himself  about  his  poetic  inspirations.  If  a  crea 
tive  idea  arose  in  his  imagination  he  allowed  it  to  ripen 
in  his  mind,  sometimes  a  long  while,  until  it  took  form 
and  being.  Then,  after  he  had  committed  to  paper  the 
creation  of  his  brain,  he  willingly  read  it  to  his  intimates. 
It  often  happened  that  he  said  to  me:  "I  have  a  poem 
in  my  head,  but  cannot  tell  you  what  it  is ;  the  idea  would 
leave  me  at  once  if  I  did!"  But  sometimes  a  poem 
suddenly  stood  complete  before  his  inner  eye,  and  he 
read  it  to  me  in  his  sonorous  tones  on  the  same  day. 
So,  for  example,  his  melodious  "Improvisations"  of 
later  years.  He  filed  short  poems  very  little ;  longer  ones 
he  sometimes  corrected  copiously.  At  times  a  poem 
pleased  him  so  little,  especially  as  regarded  the  form,  that 
he  rewrote  it  entirely  or  cast  it  aside. 

It  was  not  easy  to  cultivate  a  mutual  and  sympathetic 
understanding  with  my  new  acquaintances  among  the 
country  people.  They  received  me  with  great  good 
will,  but  their  mode  of  life,  so  primitive  in  many  respects, 
the  utterly  different  point  of  view  from  which  they 
looked  upon  and  judged  the  world  and  its  affairs,  as  well 
as  a  certain  embarrassment  of  manner  and  the  Quaker 
repression  of  every  outward  show  of  feeling — all  these 
qualities  were  as  foreign  to  me  as  my  character  and 
manner,  my  views  of  life,  and  my  opinions  must  have  been 
strange  to  them.  I  was  fortunately  endowed  with  the 
faculty  of  accommodating  myself  easily  to  different 
circumstances  and  conditions,  and  this  gift  was  a  great 
help  to  me  in  the  early  period  of  my  new  life.  The 
sanguine  temperament  of  my  husband  was  my  guiding 
star  dining  this  time.  But  I  did  not  begin  to  feel  really 


90  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

at  home  in  this  country  until  four  or  five  years  had 
passed;  partly  owing,  perhaps,  to  our  frequent  trips  to 
Europe,  for  when  our  little  daughter  was  five  years  old 
she  had  crossed  the  ocean  with  us  five  times. 

Among  the  people  who  lived  in  the  neighbourhood 
there  was  a  small  number  of  families  with  whom  we  were 
more  intimate — dear  people,  whom  I  learned  to  esteem. 
Whittier,  who  was  once  a  guest  for  several  days  in  one  of 
these  farmer  families,  said  of  them:  "I  found  a  people 
of  plain  living  and  high  thinking,"  a  true  characterisation 
of  the  leading  Quaker  farmers  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Kennett  Square  in  those  days.  The  men  tilled  their 
fields  with  their  own  hands  and  performed  the  various 
tasks  connected  with  a  farm;  their  wives  did  the  house 
work  and  looked  after  the  dairy,  often  without  assistance. 
Everything  was  done  quietly  and  methodically,  without 
unnecessary  hurry,  and  they  found  time  to  visit  friends 
and  acquaintances  during  the  afternoon,  or  to  drive  out 
in  the  evening,  sometimes  for  miles,  to  hear  a  lecture  by 
some  famous  speaker.  When  we  drove  up  to  the  door 
unexpectedly  to  pay  one  of  them  a  visit  we  always  found 
the  house  in  exquisite  order,  and  looking  as  if  it  had  been 
freshly  furbished.  If  we  came  in  the  afternoon  we  were 
usually  asked  to  stay  to  supper,  and  nothing  could  have 
been  more  appetising  than  those  impromptu  evening 
meals.  In  spite  of  all  their  work  and  toil,  these  people 
took  a  lively  interest  in  everything  that  was  going  on 
in  the  world,  and  particularly  in  the  closer  politics  of  their 
own  country.  Besides  taking  several  newspapers,  they 
had  good  books  on  their  shelves,  and  their  talk  soon  turned 
to  intellectual  topics.  They  discussed  the  questions  of 
the  day,  and  had  formed  opinions  on  all  the  religious, 


THE   NEW  HOMESTEAD  91 

social,  philanthropic  and  reform  problems  which  filled 
people's  minds  at  that  time. 

One  point  that  struck  me  from  the  very  first  was  the 
status  of  woman.  As  in  the  country  at  large,  she  enjoyed 
a  degree  of  independence  that  is  seldom  met  with  abroad. 
But  here  this  position  was  hers  by  inheritance,  and 
therefore  free  from  any  kind  of  excess.  Its  foundations 
were  set  in  the  first  principles  of  the  Quaker  faith.  Within 
the  pale  of  this  sect  the  woman  was  the  absolute  equal 
of  the  man ;  she  had  the  same  rights  in  the  family  and  in 
the  community;  at  the  religious  meetings  she  was  as 
privileged  as  any  man  to  stand  up  and  address  the  as 
semblage  whenever  "the  spirit  moved."  The  self- 
reliance  that  the  women  acquired  by  this  means  endowed 
even  the  least  of  them  with  a  quiet  dignity  that  never 
under  any  circumstances  deserted  her.  Since  that  time 
the  surprising  developments  of  the  later  decades  of  the 
past  century  have  caused  many  changes  in  Chester 
County.  The  old  barriers  of  Quakerdom  have  fallen 
before  the  onslaught  of  new  conditions ;  the  descendants 
of  the  "  Friends,"  no  longer  satisfied  within  the  restricted 
boundaries  of  their  inherited  acres,  have  wandered  out 
among  the  "world's  people,"  have  adopted  professions, 
and  have  thereby  won  wealth  and  fame.  Kennett 
Square  no  longer  knows  the  peculiar  dress  that  we  used  to 
see  every  day,  no  longer  hears  the  plain  speech  and  owns 
the  high  intellectual  atmosphere  of  former  years,  for 
another  race  has  taken  possession,  and  but  few  of  the 
surrounding  farms  are  in  the  hands  of  the  old  families. 

Many  strange  characters  have  also  disappeared  along 
with  the  former  generation.  Where  could  one  find  now 
adays  a  parallel  to  the  case  of  one  old  spinster  of  good 


92  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

Quaker  family  whom  I  knew  when  I  first  came  to  Kennett? 
She  had  her  coffin  made  ready  and,  pending  its  final  service, 
put  it  to  economical  use  for  years  as  a  trough  for  mixing 
her  bread!  A  typical  Quaker,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
"  Cousin  Ruth,"  a  distant  relative  of  the  Taylor  family,  an 
aged  woman  much  beloved  by  everyone  for  her  cheerful, 
happy  disposition.  Her  picture  lives  in  my  memory  as 
she  talked  pleasantly  with  us  and  smoked  with  enjoyment 
a  short  clay  pipe  the  while.  She  was  the  original  of 
"Martha  Dean"  in  my  husband's  novel,  "The  Story  of 
Kennett."  I  must  not  forget  another  relative;  her  name 
was  Becky  Taylor.  She,  with  her  brothers  and  sisters, 
all  single,  lived  upon  the  old  farm  which  they  managed 
together.  She  was  the  eldest,  a  tall,  spare  woman,  who 
lived  to  be  over  ninety,  and  went  to  her  last  day  with  a 
carriage  as  straight  as  that  of  a  young  girl,  and  without 
a  gray  hair  on  her  head.  Her  manner  was  reserved  and 
she  spoke  seldom,  but  she  gave  the  impression  of  an 
intelligent  person  with  a  firm  character  that  nothing 
could  shake.  My  astonishment  was  great  when  I  dis 
covered  that  in  former  years,  in  the  seclusion  of  her 
simple  home  life,  she  had  acquired  without  instruction  a 
mastery  of  the  German  and  Italian  languages,  so  that  she 
was  able  to  read  "Faust"  and  the  "Divina  Commedia" 
in  the  original  tongues.* 

I  know  not  how  to  account  for  the  fact  that,  generally 
speaking,  the  Quaker  women  possessed  more  refined  and 
noble  features  than  the  men.  The  type  of  the  Quaker 

*Her  youngest  brother  was  Dr.  Franklin  Taylor,  one  of  my  hus 
band's  two  companions  on  the  first  trip  to  Europe.  He  left  the  farm 
when  a  young  man,  and,  like  so  many  American  youths,  earned  the 
means  for  his  own  education.  He  afterward  studied  in  Heidelberg, 
and  gained  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Philosophy. 


THE   NEW  HOMESTEAD  93 

woman  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  that  the  world  has  ever 
seen.  The  noble  mind,  the  inward  peace,  express  them 
selves  in  the  depth  of  the  eye  and  in  the  delicately 
modelled  features.  This  type  can  no  longer  be  seen  in 
its  purest  form,  since  the  younger  generation  of  the 
"Friends"  has  become  "worldly,"  and  has  exchanged 
the  "meeting  house"  of  its  ancestors  for  the  churches  of 
other  denominations. 


CHAPTER  VII 
WAR  TIME 

AMID  the  idyllic  life  of  that  first  summer  in  our  own 
home  we  heard — low  at  first,  but  growing  ever  louder — 
the  threatening  premonitions  of  approaching  civil  war. 
In  the  dog  days  the  political  excitement  in  Kennett  and 
the  country  round  about  grew  to  fever  heat,  the  more 
so,  as  some  of  the  most  zealous  abolitionists  lived  near 
our  little  village.  About  two  miles  away  a  farm,  whose 
owners  were  numbered  among  our  friends,  was  one  of  the 
stations  of  the  "underground  railroad,"  that  system 
by  which  runaway  slaves  were  secretly  conveyed  to 
Canada  and  safety.  In  the  month  of  August  a  political 
mass  meeting  took  place  on  the  meadows  of  the  Brandy- 
wine  Creek,  near  Chadd's  Ford,  where  a  battle  of  the 
Revolution  was  fought  in  1777.  Upward  of  40,000 
people  came  together  here  from  far  and  near,  filled  with 
enthusiasm  for  Lincoln  and  the  weal  of  the  nation. 
Bayard  Taylor  was  unanimously  elected  chairman  of  the 
meeting,  and  made  his  first  political  speech  upon  this 
occasion. 

Autumn  came  and  painted  all  the  landscape  in  gay 
colours.  The  first  night  frosts  had  opened  the  prickly 
burrs  of  the  chestnuts  and  the  breeze  had  shaken  them 
down  from  the  trees.  The  walnuts  and  hickory  nuts 
dropped  with  a  light  thud,  and  all  were  eagerly  garnered. 
In  the  fields  where  a  little  while  ago  the  corn  stood  tall 

94 


WAR  TIME  95 

and  stately  the  golden  ears  were  harvested  and  the  dry 
stalks  bunched  in  stacks  like  wigwams.  Here  and  there 
a  field  of  winter  wheat  or  a  meadow  along  the  edge  of  a 
wood  spread  their  vivid  emerald  green,  while  everywhere 
the  frost  had  bedecked  trees  and  bushes  with  a  mantle  of 
colour — here  flaming  red,  there  golden  yellow,  inter 
mingled  with  pink,  violet,  purple,  amaranth  and  palest 
green — a  dazzling  splendour  tinged  with  gold  by  a  warm 
sun  that  shone  through  a  bluish  haze.  Along  the  roads 
the  goldenrod,  the  tall  asclepias  (milkweed)  and  delicate 
asters  still  bloomed  in  profusion;  the  lowland  marshes 
were  resplendent  with  cardinal  flowers,  blue  gentians, 
yellow  rudbeckias  and  slender  ferns. 

Above  these  beautiful  autumn  days  the  clouds  of 
threatening  war  assumed  ever  greater  proportions.  The 
excitement  of  the  presidential  election  had  grown  steadily 
since  midsummer,  becoming  ever  more  intense  as  the  day 
for  the  decision  at  the  polls  approached.  On  November 
6th  Lincoln  was  elected  by  an  overwhelming  majority, 
and  a  vital  conflict  between  the  North  and  South  became 
inevitable.  On  December  4th  I  wrote  to  my  mother: 

"  We  are  having  hard  times  here ;  there  is  lack  of  money 
everywhere  and  banks  are  failing,  all  in  consequence 
of  the  dangerous  political  crisis.  The  South  is  so  violent 
in  her  hatred  of  the  North  that  people  who  are  of  Northern 
birth  are  in  danger  of  their  lives,  even  if  they  have  lived 
in  the  South  for  years."  And  on  December  28th: 
"People  talk  of  nothing  but  politics.  You  will  have 
heard  the  news  that  South  Carolina  has  declared  her 
withdrawal  from  the  Union.  Everything  now  depends 
on  the  inauguration  of  the  new  President." 

There  were  sympathisers  with  the  seceding  South  in 


96  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

the  North  as  well.  In  the  middle  of  December,  when 
George  W.  Curtis  made  a  political  speech  in  Philadelphia, 
he  was  hissed  and  silenced — something  so  incredible  that 
a  few  days  later,  on  the  occasion  of  a  lecture  in  Brooklyn, 
Bayard  Taylor  felt  impelled  to  touch  upon  this  incident, 
when  he,  too,  was  interrupted  in  his  discourse  by  hisses. 
This  experience  was  so  unexpected  and  new  to  him  that, 
as  he  told  us  afterward,  everything  for  a  moment  was  as 
yellow  as  saffron  before  his  eyes — to  such  a  degree  was 
his  anger  roused.  Two  days  later,  when  he  also  was 
to  speak  in  Philadelphia,  the  authorities  considered 
it  expedient  to  have  a  guard  of  policemen  on  the 
platform. 

Early  in  1861  we  were  again  in  our  house  in  New  York, 
and  my  husband  started  once  more  upon  his  lecturing 
tours,  in  order  to  cover  the  cost  of  building  "  Cedarcroft," 
which  had  far  exceeded  his  expectation.  The  winter 
was  severe  and  Taylor  had  to  endure  much  bodily  fatigue. 
Not  to  mention  other  disagreeable  happenings,  once  in 
February  his  train  was  stuck  fast  for  two  days  in  a 
snowdrift  near  Lake  Ontario.  All  the  more  enjoyable 
were  his  temporary  rests  between  these  trips,  which  he 
utilised  by  writing  several  short  stories.  These  furnished 
him  with  a  welcome  addition  to  his  exchequer,  as  the 
principal  sources  of  his  income — for  example,  the  ordi 
narily  large  returns  from  the  publishers  of  his  books — 
began  to  shrink  considerably,  owing  to  the  general  business 
depression.  Since  anxiety  for  the  future  seemed  suddenly 
to  have  reduced  to  a  minimum  the  interest  of  the  public 
in  literature,  the  publication  of  the  "Poet's  Journal," 
which  was  ready  for  the  press,  was  also  postponed  to  a 
more  favourable  time. 


WAR  TIME  97 

As  in  the  preceding  winter,  the  companionship  of  the 
Stoddards  enabled  me  to  support  my  husband's  frequent 
absences  better.  We  took  our  meals  in  common  and 
often  spent  the  evenings  together,  when  friends  of  both 
occasionally  dropped  in.  Stoddard  was  a  real  book 
worm  and  intimately  acquainted  with  old  English 
literature.  He  seldom  came  home  from  the  Custom 
House,  where  he  held  a  position,  without  bringing  a  rare 
book  or  print  that  he  had  discovered  in  some  old  shop. 
When  my  husband  came  to  stay  with  us  for  a  few  days 
we  always  had  the  best  of  times,  and  Stoddard  would 
declaim  in  high  good  humour:  "Let  us  sit  upon  the 
floor  and  tell  sad  stories  of  the  death  of  kings." 

Although  the  public  strife  of  those  days  could  not 
keep  our  poets  from  sparring  with  the  blades  of  wit, 
there  were  not  nearly  so  many  social  entertainments  as 
in  the  preceding  winter.  Late  in  February  I  received 
a  letter  from  my  husband,  in  which  he  wrote : 

"There  is  a  good  deal  of  excitement  in  the  West;  the 
people  are  all  ready  to  fight.  The  prospects,  however, 
are  improving  every  day.  Great  numbers  of  Western 
men  are  going  on  to  Washington,  and  if  the  Southerners 
attempt  to  prevent  Lincoln's  inauguration,  they  will  get 
terribly  thrashed.  ...  I  have  been  reading  Carlyle 
and  the  Atlantic  for  March,  but  have  been  most  of  the 
time  occupied  with  my  story.*  I  have  written  twelve 
pages.  I  enjoy  this  kind  of  writing  very  much,  and  am 
quite  anxious  to  show  it  to  you.  Perhaps  I  shall  have  it 
finished  by  the  time  I  return." 

For  the  past  six  months  we  had  been  looking  forward  to 
a  visit  to  my  parents'  home  in  Germany  in  the  coming 
*  "The  Haunted  Shanty." 


98  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

summer,  and  in  spite  of  the  troublous  times  we  still  held 
to  our  intention  of  carrying  out  this  plan.  But  it  almost 
seemed  as  if  it  was  not  to  be.  For  when  the  Carolinians 
fired  upon  Fort  Sumter  on  April  i2th,  and  the  garrison 
under  Major  Anderson  surrendered,  civil  war  was  un 
avoidable  and  people  asked  each  other  tremblingly: 
"What  will  happen  next?" 

For  the  sake  of  economy  we  had  given  up  the  New 
York  house  early  in  April,  and  were  in  "Cedarcroft" 
when  the  dread  news  arrived.  In  the  beginning  of 
February  the  stay-at-homes  had  sent  me  a  nosegay  of 
hepatica,  anemones,  wintergreen,  violets  and  partridge 
berry  from  our  woods.  My  sister-in-law  Emma  wrote 
at  the  same  time  that  twelve  small  gray  owls  were  roosting 
among  the  cedars,  looking  as  grave  as  judges;  that  the 
bluebirds  had  come  back  and  redbirds  flew  upon  the 
terrace  to  regale  themselves  on  the  bluish  cedar  berries. 
When  I  wrote  to  my  husband  of  these  things  I  added: 
"'Cedarcroft'  grows  ever  dearer  to  me.  It  is  rich  in 
poetry  and  must  be  the  future  home  of  your  Muse,  for 
does  it  not  seem  made  for  a  poet? "  But  where  were  now 
the  Muses?  They  had  fled  before  the  blare  of  the  war 
trumpet.  And  their  leader?  " The  sword  of  Mars  chops 
in  two  the  strings  of  Apollo's  lyre."  * 

If  "  Cedarcroft "  was  not  without  its  charm  in  February, 
how  much  more  attractive  was  it  now,  when  Spring  was 
bourgeoning  everywhere  and  bedecking  itself  with  fresh 
beauty.  A  greenish  film  was  spread  over  the  woods  and 
the  sun  shone  with  fruitful  warmth  upon  hill  and  dale. 
In  the  terrace  -beds  hyacinths  and  tulips  blossomed 

*  Bayard  Taylor  to  Mrs.  Stoddard,  "Life  and  Letters  of  Bayard 
Taylor,"  page  381. 


BAYARD    TAYLOR 
1864 


WAR  TIME  99 

fragrantly,  and  my  nurslings,  the  vines  on  the  pillars  of 
the  veranda — Dutchman's-pipe,  Virginia  creeper,  wistaria 
and  trumpet  flower,  planted  by  myself  the  year  before — 
began  to  unfold  their  tender  leaflets.  But  the  enjoy 
ment  that  the  home  of  our  own  creation  afforded  us 
was  overcast  this  year  by  anxiety.  In  a  letter  of  April 
2ist  I  wrote  to  my  mother: 

"  Every  heart  is  bleeding  for  the  nation  and  the  wrong 
being  done  to  it.  All  work,  all  business,  is  at  a  stand 
still,  all  the  men  capable  of  bearing  arms  are  going  to  the 
front,  among  them  'Fritz.'  His  young  comrades,  the 
cousins,  friends  and  acquaintances,  have  all  volunteered. 
Even  the  most  stiff-necked  Quakers  abandon  the  peaceful 
tenets  of  their  sect  and  buy  uniforms  and  arms  for  their 
sons.  One  Quaker  woman  of  the  neighbourhood  ac 
companied  her  three  sons  to  the  borough  hall  to  see  them 
sign  their  names  in  the  list  of  volunteers.  The  patriotic 
enthusiasm  is  so  great  that  no  one  begrudges  any  sacrifice 
of  money,  and  the  young  men  are  eager  to  go  to  battle. 
At  home  there  are  five  of  us  sitting  and  sewing  flannel 
shirts  for  the  regiment  in  which  more  than  one  of  the 
boys  whom  we  love  is  enrolled — fine  young  men,  the 
flower  of  the  community.  It  is  principally  owing  to 
Fred  Taylor's  exertions  that  an  entire  company  has  been 
formed  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  $4,000  subscribed  for 
their  equipment  and  maintenance.  He  goes  to  Harris- 
burg  to-day  to  put  them  at  the  Governor's  disposal." 

After  the  attack  in  Baltimore,  on  April  i9th,  upon  the 
troops  from  Massachusetts  on  their  way  to  Washington, 
it  was  apparent  that  the  Federal  Government  had  allowed 
itself  to  be  taken  by  surprise.  Our  part  of  the  country 
seemed  also  to  be  in  grave  danger.  Delaware,  whose 
boundary  line  is  only  six  miles  distant,  was  thought  to  be 


ioo  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

true  to  the  Union ;  but  it  was  feared  that  the  Marylanders 
might  undertake  a  raid  to  revenge  themselves  on  the 
hated  abolitionists  of  Kennett  Square  and  the  vicinity. 
Self-defense  was  our  only  safeguard.  While  the  young 
men  had  gone  into  camp  at  some  distance  as  Company  H 
of  the  Bucktail  Regiment  *  (the  first  Rifle  Regiment  of 
the  Pennsylvania  Volunteers)  and  were  busily  drilling,  the 
older  men  of  Kennett  Square  formed  themselves  into  a 
police  force  for  the  defense  of  their  homes  in  case  of 
necessity.  As  our  house  was  a  mile  from  the  village,  and 
the  New  York  Tribune,  with  which  Bayard  Taylor  was 
connected,  was  cordially  hated  in  the  South,  we  would 
have  been  in  a  very  dangerous  position  in  the  event  of  an 
attack.  My  husband  therefore  instituted  a  private  night 
patrol  for  the  protection  of  his  property,  which  was 
kept  alternately  by  himself  and  his  farm  hands.  It  is 
doubtful  whether  this  guard  would  have  been  of  any  use 
if  we  had  been  attacked,  for  we  possessed  no  arms. 
Two  Turkish  scimitars  (one  with  an  ancient  Damascene 
blade),  an  African  spear,  a  war  club  of  the  Shillook 
negroes,  a  shield  of  rhinoceros  hide,  and  other  archaic 
weapons  that  my  husband  had  brought  home  from  the 
Orient,  were  hunted  up  and  kept  in  readiness.  In  spite 
of  the  insecurity  of  our  position  we  could  not  refrain  from 
having  our  fun  over  these  inadequate  means  of  defense. 
The  night  was  clear  and  the  moon  shone;  a  silver  haze 
lay  over  the  sloping  lawn,  and  nothing  broke  the  stillness 
but  the  monotonous  croaking  of  the  frogs  and  the  oc 
casional  deep-toned  bass  of  a  bullfrog.  Nevertheless 
sleep  fled  from  our  eyelids.  With  the  dawn  the  humid 

*They  wore  bucktails  on  their  caps;     hence  the  name  of  the  regi 
ment. 


WAR  TIME 


spring  mists  were  dissipated  and  the  anxious  thoughts  of 
the  night  were  banished;  we  breathed  more  freely,  and 
when  the  following  day  also  passed  without  any  signs 
of  hostile  attack  our  fears  of  personal  danger  gradually 
waned.  But  not  so  the  exertions  of  the  patriots  to  influence 
the  minds  of  their  neighbours.  Hardly  a  day  passed  that 
Taylor  did  not  appear  in  one  place  or  the  other  to  exhort 
the  country  people  to  rise  up  in  defense  of  the  Union  —  to 
inspire  courage  in  the  faint  hearted,  to  prick  the  conscience 
of  the  indifferent. 

When  in  the  ensuing  weeks  confidence  in  the  Govern 
ment  at  Washington  grew  apace  and  the  situation 
began  to  clear  up,  so  that  it  appeared  as  if  no  definite 
action  would  be  taken  during  the  summer,  we  finally 
decided  to  make  a  short  trip  to  Germany  and  sailed  at 
the  end  of  May. 

The  roses  were  in  full  bloom  in  the  garden  of  the  new 
Observatory  in  Gotha  when  we  arrived  there  as  guests 
of  my  parents.  And  not  we  alone,  for  my  sister  had 
come  also  with  her  husband  and  children  from  Russia, 
so  that  the  summer  was  one  long  family  feast  from  begin 
ning  to  end.  My  father,  whose  eyes  had  begun  to  suffer 
from  the  affection  that  later  made  him  almost  blind,  had 
in  the  meantime  been  accumulating  honours.  As  early 
as  1859  my  mother  had  written  to  me:  "'The  Tables 
of  the  Moon  '  will  soon  be  used  in  England  for  navigation. 
For  this  purpose  comparisons  have  been  made  with  the 
observations  of  one  year,  and  Airy  writes  to  father  that 
the  result  is  surprising  and  exceeds  all  expectation." 
Early  in  the  following  year  the  Astronomical  Society  of 
London  for  the  second  time  conferred  upon  him  the  gold 
prize  medal  "with  great  enthusiasm  and  a  large  majority 


TWO   CONTINENTS 

of  votes."  More  agreeable  still  was  the  later  news  that 
Parliament  had  awarded  him  one  thousand  pounds 
sterling  for  the  "Tables  of  the  Moon." 

As  my  husband  had  been  suffering  for  some  time  from 
an  affection  of  the  knee  joints,  aggravated  during  the 
winter  by  sitting  so  much  on  the  cramped  American 
car  seats  (there  were  no  parlour  cars  in  those  days),  the 
physician  had  advised  him  to  take  moderate  daily 
walks.  This  suggested  the  plan  to  travel  on  foot  through 
Franconian  Switzerland,  with  the  further  idea  of  making 
literary  use  of  the  jaunt  and  writing  an  article  *  describing 
this  region  so  utterly  unknown  in  America. 

Before  going  to  Franconia  my  husband  stopped  for  a 
short  time  at  Coburg,  where  he  had  asked  for  permission  to 
pay  his  respects  to  Duke  Ernest  II.  He  wrote  me  from  there : 

"When  I  reached  the  station  here,  I  had  no  sooner 
alighted  on  the  platform  than  I  was  accosted  by  a  pleasant 
gentleman  with  a  white  cravat,  who  asked :  '  Are  you  not 
Herr  Tylore?'  'Yes/  said  I.  'His  Highness,  the  Duke, 
expects  you  at  the  Callenberg,  zur  Tafel,  at  7  o'clock  this 
evening.'  I  then  perceived  that  the  gentleman  was  an 
Oberhof-Etwas.  Of  course  I  answered  that  I  should  have 
the  honor  to  accept  Hochderselben's  invitation.  'At 
seven  o'clock,'  he  repeated.  'You  must  leave  Coburg  at 
half  past  six:  wear  a  black  cravat  and  a  dress-coat.' 

"  I  bought  a  black  cravat  and  white  gloves,  and  hope 
to  make  a  respectable  appearance.  .  .  .  The  Oberhof- 
Etwas  also  said  to  me:  'Where  is  your  Frau  Gemahlin? 
The  Duke  expects  her  also.'  Indeed,  I  wish  you  had 
come.  You  know  I  proposed  it.  The  prospect  before 
me  would  be  much  more  pleasant,  if  you  were  here. 

*Published  first  in  Harper's  Magazine  under  the  title  "A  Walk 
Through  the  Franconian  Switzerland,"  and  afterward  included  in  "At 
Home  and  Abroad,"  Second  Series. 


WAR  TIME  103 

"After  dinner  (of  which  I  made  a  lunch)  I  walked 
out  to  Neusass.  I  went  in  through  Ruckert's  *  garden — 
oh,  the  splendid  pinks!  Broad  masses  of  a  single  color, 
and  the  hot  air  thoroughly  impregnated  with  spice.  It 
was  a  leaf  out  of  the  Orient.  I  found  nobody  in  the 
lower  rooms,  and  wandered  about  in  uncertainty  until 
at  length  Miss  Anna  issued  from  a  stable.  .  .  .  She 
was  surprised  to  see  me.  'Oh,'  said  she,  'Marie  was 
wondering  whether  you  would  come.'  ...  I  went 
up  stairs,  and  presently  the  old  poet  came.  He  looked 
much  older,  but  still  the  same  noble  head,  the  same 
splendid  eyes.  He  seemed  heartily  glad  to  see  me,  and 
talked  for  an  hour  with  the  greatest  animation — princi 
pally  on  American  affairs,  which  he  understands  very 
well.  Also  on  Oriental  literature.  He  still  writes  poetry, 
he  tells  me,  but  has  firmly  resolved  that  none  of  it  shall 
be  published  until  after  his  death." 

He  continued  the  letter  next  day: 

"I  must  wait  until  nearly  12  for  the  train  to  Bamberg, 
which  gives  me  time  to  continue  the  story.  I  found  the 
landlord  had  engaged  for  me  an  aparten  Wagen  with 
two  horses.  So,  putting  on  my  duster  to  protect  the 
black  dress,  .  .  .  I  set  out  for  the  Callenberg.  The 
evening  was  perfectly  delicious:  the  old  Veste  Coburg 
shone  golden  in  the  sun,  and  long  shadows  lay  across  the 
meadows  of  Rosenau.  There  was  a  mild  breeze,  hay- 
scented,  blowing  over  the  hills.  At  10  minutes  before 
7  I  reached  the  Callenberg.  The  Duke's  darkey  was  at 
the  door,  and  I  gave  my  duster  .  .  .  into  his  hands. 
He  conducted  me  to  an  upper  terrace  —  a  delicious, 
shaded  place,  planted  with  flowers  in  rococo  style, 
with  a  fountain  in  the  centre.  At  the  main  entrance 
stood  two  lackeys.  I  followed  the  darkey,  and  was 
about  entering,  when  I  was  confronted  by  a  tall,  stately 

*Friedrich  Riickert,  the  poet. 


io4  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

gentleman,  with  ...  the  most  wonderfully  curled 
and  waxed  moustaches  that  I  ever  saw.  He  bowed 
with  gravity:  I  answered  stiffly.  He  looked  at  me  as 
if  expecting  me  to  say  something,  but  I  was  so  taken 
aback  by  the  marvellous  twist  of  his  moustaches  that  I 
could  not  think  of  a  single  appropriate  remark.  One  of 
the  lackeys,  seeing  that  I  was  absorbed  in  the  contempla 
tion  of  this  gentleman,  politely  introduced  him  as  '  Ober- 

hofmarschall    von    W .'      Thereupon    he    suddenly 

remarked  lVous  etes  arrive  aujourd'hui?'  I  answered  in 
German,  which  seemed  to  relieve  him — whereupon  he 
conducted  me  around  the  terrace,  and  pointed  out  the 
beauties  of  the  landscape.  I  fell  in  love  with  the  Callen- 
berg  at  once.  There  is  not  a  more  exquisite  situation  in 
Germany.  It  is  high  enough  to  command  a  wide  and 
splendid  panorama,  yet  not  so  high  as  to  lose  the  sentiment 
and  expression  of  the  different  features.  Each  angle 
of  the  parapet  gives  you  a  new  landscape.  There  is,  first, 
the  valley  of  Coburg,  crowned  by  its  hill  and  fortress; 
then  a  broad  mountain  of  dark  firs — nothing  else  to  be 
seen;  then  a  vision  of  England — hedgerow  trees,  green 
lawns  and  water;  then  a  rich  plain,  stretching  away  to 
the  southwest,  where  the  volcanic  peaks  of  the  Gleich- 
berge  rise  against  the  sky;  and  so  on,  all  around.  The 
trees  on  the  hill  itself  are  superb,  and  the  castle  on  the 
summit  so  thoroughly  harmonizes  with  the  scenery,  that 
it  seems  the  natural  crowning  expression  of  the  whole. 

"Presently  a  lackey  came  and  whispered  to  the  Ober- 
hofmarschall,  who  informed  me  that  the  Duke's  adjutant, 

Herr  von  R ,  with  his  wife  and  sister  (I  believe)  had 

arrived,  and  asked  whether  it  would  be  agreeable  to  me 
to  be  presented  to  them.  The  Adjutant  was  a  slight, 
gentlemanly  person,  with  an  air  of  refinement ;  the  ladies 
both  handsome  and  graceful.  Scarcely  had  we  exchanged 
a  few  common-places  when  the  Duke  and  Duchess  came 
out  upon  the  terrace.  Off  went  hats  and  down  dipped 
the  ladies.  The  Duchess  did  the  same,  and  the  O.  H. 


WAR  TIME  105 

Marschall  immediately  presented  me  to  her.  At  the 
same  moment  the  Duke  came  up  to  me,  bowed  and 
addressed  me  very  cordially.*  I  bowed  profoundly  to 
both.  As  the  Duke  addressed  me  in  German,  I  answered 
him  in  the  same.  He  immediately  asked  after  you,  and 
seemed  a  little  disappointed  that  you  were  not  with  me. 
He  looks  remarkably  well.  His  face  is  tanned  and  has  a 
fine  healthy  look,  and  he  has  splendid  brown  eyes.  He 
at  once  took  me  off  to  the  parapet  and  began  to  comment 
upon  the  landscape,  but  in  a  few  minutes  dinner  was 
announced,  and  we  rejoined  the  company.  The  dinner 
was  very  pleasant.  Not  only  were  the  dishes  remarkably 
good,  and  the  wine  excellent,  but  there  was  a  free,  unre 
strained  flow  of  conversation,  in  which  all  took  part. 
The  Duchess  is  passionately  fond  of  scenery,  and  knows 
how  to  remember  and  describe  what  she  has  seen.  The 
Duke  is  a  head  and  shoulders  above  the  men  who  sur 
round  him — a  bright,  wide-awake,  well-informed,  living 
man,  with  very  extensive  acquirements  and  exquisite 
taste.  .  .  . 

"After  dinner  we  went  upon  the  terrace,  and  had 
coffee  and  cigars.  Then  the  Duke  took  me  into  a  corner 
where  we  looked  down  on  the  loveliest  woods  and  talked 
for  about  an  hour.  As  I  had  to  lend  him  my  cigar 
several  times  for  a  light,  I  noticed  that  his  hands  were  not 
near  so  handsome  as  mine,  and  that  he  had  not  the  least 
idea  how  to  present  a  cigar  in  the  graceful  Spanish 
manner.  He  talked  with  the  greatest  animation  and 
frankness,  and  I  was  really  so  pleased  with  him  as  a  man 
that  I  totally  forgot  he  was  a  reigning  Prince.  He  spoke 
of  European  and  American  politics  in  the  most  unre 
strained  way,  and  I  was  equally  unrestrained  in  expressing 
my  own  sentiments.  I  was  surprised  to  find  how  many 
views  we  shared  in  common. 

*The  Duke  had  made  Bayard  Taylor's  acquaintance  in  1858,  in  the 
new  Observatory  at  Gotha,  when  the  former  had  paid  a  visit  of  inspec 
tion  in  the  company  of  his  brother  Albert,  the  Prince  Consort  of 
England. 


io6  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

"  About  ten  o'clock,  there  was  a  movement  of  departure. 
.  .  .  I  had  passed,  as  you  may  suppose,  a  most 
interesting  and  delightful  evening  on  the  Callenberg." 

Ere  the  wanderer  had  completed  his  journey  on  foot 
he  was  heartily  tired  of  this  whimsical  method  of  treat 
ment,  and  wrote  to  me  shortly  before  his  return,  the  end 
of  June:  "I  might  appropriately  take  to  myself  the 
name  of  an  Indian  chief  whom  I  once  knew — Blister-feet." 

In  August  the  Duke  and  Duchess  came  for  a  stay  of 
several  weeks  to  Castle  Reinhardsbrunn,  at  the  foot  of 
the  Thuringian  Mountains.  On  the  ruins  of  a  rich 
mediaeval  monastery,  that  had  been  destroyed  in  the 
Peasants'  War,*  the  father  of  the  reigning  Duke  had 
erected  a  beautiful  summer  residence  in  the  Gothic  style 
of  architecture,  and  had  surrounded  it  by  an  English 
park.  It  is  exquisitely  situated  between  artificial  lakes 
and  groups  of  trees ;  its  principal  facade  looks  toward  the 
Abbot's  Mountain,  clothed  with  magnificent  beeches,  and 
to  the  bold  summit  of  the  Evil  Mountain  beyond.  Shortly 
after  the  arrival  of  the  ducal  party  we  received  a 
promised  invitation  to  dinner  at  Reinhardsbrunn.  We 
were  in  the  latter  half  of  August  and  the  days  were 
autumnal  rather  than  summer-like;  nevertheless  the  six- 
o'clock  dinner  was  served  in  the  open  air.  The  table  was 
set  in  a  triangular  space  between  the  newer  building  and 
the  old  restored  chapel  f  of  the  monastery,  and  facing 

*"A  dreadful  war  broke  out  in  1525:  the  army  of  thirty  thousand 
peasants  ravaged  a  great  part  of  Southern  Germany,  destroying  castles 
and  convents.  .  .  .  The  movement  extended  through  Middle 
Germany,  even  to  Westphalia;  some  parts  of  Thuringia  were  held  for 
a  short  time  by  the  peasants,  and  suffered  terrible  ravages." — "A  His 
tory  of  Germany,"  by  Bayard  Taylor,  page  263. 

t  It  contains  the  burial  stones  of  a  number  of  Landgraves  of  Thu 
ringia,  three  of  them  life-size  effigies  in  stone. 


WAR  TIME  107 

a  group  of  fine  old  linden  trees,  at  whose  foot  stands 
the  ancient  weather-beaten  "Monks'  Table"  of  stone. 

The  cordiality  of  the  ducal  hosts  and  the  absence  of 
any  formal  court  etiquette  contributed  to  make  this 
occasion  a  very  pleasant  memory.  After  dinner  we 
assembled  in  the  billiard-room,  where  tea  was  served. 
The  ladies  sat  around  the  Duchess ;  the  gentlemen  played 
billiards,  sometimes  stopping  to  address  the  ladies. 
The  Duke  was  in  excellent  spirits  and  amused  himself  at 
the  expense  of  the  lady-in-waiting;  just  as  she  was 
raising  a  spoonful  of  tea  to  her  lips  a  well-directed  stroke 
of  his  billiard  cue  sent  the  contents  back  into  her  cup. 
His  good  humour  gave  the  keynote  to  the  conversation 
of  the  evening  and  time  passed  rapidly.  At  nine  o'clock 
our  carriage  was  waiting  to  convey  us  back — a  two  hours' 
drive — to  Gotha. 

We  soon  afterward  started  homeward,  and  arrived  in 
America  early  in  September.  We  found  the  political 
situation  not  much  improved.  People  still  felt  great 
anxiety  as  to  the  outcome,  and  the  scarcity  of  money  was 
disagreeably  apparent.  Like  thousands  of  other  families, 
we  were  obliged  to  economise  in  our  daily  life ;  this  was, 
however,  no  hardship  to  us,  as  we  were  conscious  that  our 
happiness  was  not  based  upon  externals.  Our  life  in 
the  country  in  autumn  had  great  attraction  for  me,  of 
which  neither  our  slender  purse  nor  the  scarcity  of 
servants  could  rob  me.  Our  orchard  supplied  us  with  an 
abundance  of  apples  and  pears,  the  woods  gave  us  chest 
nuts  and  other  nuts,  and  it  was  a  pleasure  to  gather  the 
fruit  in  baskets  and  bring  it  to  the  house.  Guests  came 
and  went,  among  others  George  H.  Boker,  of  Philadelphia, 
one  of  the  handsomest  men  I  have  ever  known,  whose 


io8  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

frequent  visits  always  had  an  agreeable  and  stimulating 
effect  upon  my  husband,  his  intimate  friend.  Taylor 
employed  his  leisure  in  the  country  and  his  enjoyment  of 
his  own  hearth  for  a  many-sided  literary  activity,  partly 
in  order  to  meet  current  expenses  and  partly  to  unburden 
his  mind  of  its  accumulation  of  poetic  material.  The 
library  adjoined  the  family  sitting-rooms,  in  which  guests 
were  received.  When  he  complained  of  being  disturbed 
in  his  work  I  hastened  to  close  the  doors  of  the  library  as 
soon  as  visitors  were  announced,  but  so  convivially 
inclined  was  my  husband's  nature  that  he  presently 
upset  all  my  plans  for  his  privacy.  In  the  course  of  a 
few  minutes  he  opened  the  sliding  doors  and  came  forward 
to  greet  our  guests  with  his  inborn  amiability.  At  this 
time  he  began  writing  his  first  novel,  "  Hannah  Thurston," 
and  thus  entered  the  domain  of  fiction,  in  which  he  had 
previously  attempted  only  a  few  short  stories.  When 
my  husband  read  the  first  finished  chapters  aloud  to  me 
I  could  not  refrain  from  playfully  chiding  him  for  the 
realistic  delineations  that  were  antagonistic  to  my 
taste — whereupon  he  only  laughed  good  humouredly. 
He  very  well  knew  the  dualism  of  his  creative  faculty  and 
recognised  that  two  different  spiritual  elements  held  the 
balance  in  his  nature:  one  idealistic,  which  constantly 
urged  him  to  higher  aspiration  and  showed  forth  in  his 
poems,  the  other  realistic,  that  led  him  to  see  and  picture 
life  as  it  actually  is. 

When  shortly  after  our  return  home  my  husband  went 
to  Washington  for  a  few  days,  he  wrote  me  thence: 

"Six    regiments    arrived    to-day.     There    are   now  in 
and  around  Washington  200,000  men.     .    .     ,     Charlie 


WAR  TIME  109 

Lamborn  *  was  here  yesterday.  His  regiment  is  6 
miles  off.  His  Colonel  says  he  is  the  best  adjutant 
in  the  Army.  Fred's  regiment  is  expected  to  move 
down  to  the  same  camp  in  a  few  days.  .  .  .  Yester 
day  Willis,  Stedman,f  Judge  Titian  Coffey  and  myself 
went  over  the  river  and  along  the  line  of  defense.  Gen. 
Keyes,  who  has  command  at  Arlington,  was  going  to  the 
pickets,  and  we  accompanied  him  most  of  the  way.  . 
I  saw  enough  to  know  that  Washington  is  the  safest 
place  in  the  country." 

One  Sunday  morning  in  October  the  family  was  greatly 
rejoiced  by  an  unexpected  visit  from  Fred  Taylor,  who 
had  obtained  a  short  furlough.  He  looked  handsome 
and  manly  and  his  uniform  set  off  his  good  figure.  The 
weather  was  delicious  and  so  entrancing  that  by  evening 
we  could  count  upward  of  forty  guests  who  had  entered 
our  doors  since  morning,  and  a  large  number  of  whom 
had  claimed  our  hospitality  either  for  dinner  or  for  sup 
per.  Later  in  the  season,  however,  when  the  rainy  days 
set  in  and  the  roads,  bad  enough  at  any  time,  became 
well-nigh  impassable,  visiting  was  not  so  frequent.  In 
the  short  days,  also,  people  had  not  time  for  junketing, 
for  everyone  was  busier  than  ever,  especially  the  women, 
who,  besides  doing  their  own  work,  were  sewing,  knitting, 
and  preserving  fruit  for  winter  comforts  for  the  troops 
and  the  hospitals. 

In  the  beginning  of  December  my  husband  left  us  for 
a  short  time.  From  Boston  he  informed  me: 

*A  young  Quaker  of  Kennett. 

fMr.  Stedman  was  war  correspondent  of  the  New  York  World 
during  the  years  of  1861-65.  In  this  capacity  one  of  his  first  com 
munications  was  a  letter  filling  a  newspaper  page,  describing  the  Battle 
of  Bull  Run,  which  opened  the  eyes  of  the  public  to  the  actual  progress 
and  true  results  of  tne  war. 


no  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

"Fields*  will  send  proofs  of  my  '  Hebel' t  and  the 
'Experiences  of  the  A.C.'  to  the  Cornhill  Magazine:  per 
haps  Thackeray  may  take  both.  If  so,  better.  Gilmore 
will  pay  the  Atlantic's  price  for  the  article  on  Ibn  Batuta. 
Fields  is  anxious  for  the  Quaker  story,  and  Gilmore  wants 
a  story  also — so  that  I  shall  have  as  much  literary  work 
as  I  can  undertake.  ...  If  Thackeray  accepts  both, 
it  will  be  an  addition  of  $200  to  my  funds.  .  .  .  Ibn 
Batuta  will  probably  bring  me  another  $100.  Fields 
also  paid  me  in  advance  $100  for  Hebel  ...  he 
offers  to  pay  me  always  in  advance.  .  .  .  I  am 
glad  you  are  reading  Titan.  J  It  is  chaotic,  but  very 
fine." 

At  the  close  of  the  year  winter  set  in  at  last.  Snow 
covered  the  earth,  but  the  sun  shone  bright  and  clear. 
It  happened  that  my  husband  had  to  deliver  a  lecture  in 
Washington  on  December  26th,  and  he  persuaded  me  to 
go  with  him  and  to  visit  the  camps  in  his  company.  I 
quote  from  my  letters  to  my  parents  describing  this 
excursion : 

"  Our  little  trip  to  the  Potomac  was  intensely  interest 
ing.  The  weather  was  cold  but  favourable,  wonderfully 
clear  and  sunshiny.  After  my  husband  had  shown  me 
the  Capitol  and  the  halls  of  Congress,  we  packed  a  large 
basket  of  provisions  for  Fred,  added  some  home-made 
apple  jelly  for  the  field  hospital,  and  drove  out  of  the 
city  along  the  Potomac.  Some  distance  beyond  a  sus 
pension  bridge  took  us  over  to  the  opposite  bank,  which 

*James  T.  Fields,  the  publisher;  at  that  time  the  editor  of  the 
A  tlantic  Monthly. 

f'The  German  Burns,"  an  article  by  Bayard  Taylor,  full  of  apprecia 
tion  of  Johann  Peter  Hebel,  containing  translations  of  a  number  of 
his  Allemanic  poems. 

JBy  Jean  Paul  Richter. 


WAR  TIME  in 

rises  steep  and  rocky,  while  trie  waters  rush  along  between 
boulders — a  wild,  tumultuous  stream.  Thence  toward 
the  south  the  heavily  laden  forage  wagons  followed  one 
another,  and  the  roads  were  full  of  soldiers — infantry  as 
well  as  cavalry.  We  had  a  government  pass  good  for 
three  days,  without  which  we  could  not  have  got  across 
the  river.  My  husband  had  received  it  as  a  special 
favour,  and  we  could  therefore  take  our  time  in  seeing 
the  different  camps.  On  this  first  day  that  of  the  Buck- 
tails  was  our  goal.  The  road  up  to  the  top  of  the  ridge 
of  hills  that  follows  the  river  led  through  a  picturesque 
gorge,  from  the  end  of  which  we  could  overlook  the  seat 
of  war.  Where  in  the  autumn  the  rebels  had  still  been 
undisputed  masters  now  stood  the  tents  of  the  Union 
army.  Even  from  this  distance  it  was  evident  that  war 
had  wrought  terrible  havoc.  Magnificent  trees — cedars, 
pines,  chestnuts,  sycamores — lay  prone  along  the  roads, 
hacked  and  hewn  to  splinters.  Farther  along  an  entire 
wood  had  been  cleared  away,  leaving  the  naked  stumps 
standing,  while  all  the  branches  had  been  used  for  con 
structing  intrenchments.  Of  course,  the  fields  were 
un tilled,  the  fences  torn  down,  and  orchards  had  fallen 
under  the  axes  of  the  sappers.  The  stately  country 
houses  upon  the  hills  were  abandoned  by  their  owners; 
some  of  them  were  used  as  headquarters  of  the  generals, 
and  one  as  a  field  hospital.  About  two  miles  from  the 
Potomac  we  saw  the  camps  of  McCall's  division,  to  which 
the  Bucktail  regiment  belongs.  The  latter  lay  encamped 
along  the  front  next  to  the  enemy,  and  we  were  shown  a 
hill  upon  whose  farther  slope  we  should  find  it.  We 
soon  saw  the  tents  shining  in  the  light  of  the  declining 
sun,  and  a  horseman  came  galloping  to  meet  us.  It  was 
Fred,  for  the  time  being  acting  colonel  in  place  of  his 
superior  officer,  who  had  received  a  gunshot  wound  in 
the  victorious  Battle  of  Drain esville,  shortly  before  Christ 
mas.  He  took  us  to  his  tent  on  the  summit  of  the  hill 
and  showed  us  the  point,  about  a  mile  away,  where  stood 


ii2  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

the  last  outpost  of  the  Union  army,  with  the  enemy  not 
far  distant.  The  air  was  keen  upon  the  height,  and  we 
were  glad  to  enter  the  tent  and  warm  ourselves  by  the 
small  iron  field  stove.  Besides  a  hard  camp  bed,  the 
tent  contained  a  table — where  toilet  articles  lay  side  by 
side  with  books  and  writing  materials — and  four  small 
camp  stools,  on  which  it  was  difficult  to  keep  one's 
balance. 

"As  time  pressed  we  did  not  stay  long.  With  Fred  on 
horseback  beside  us,  we  drove  along  between  the  rows  of 
tents,  where  the  young  men  of  Kennett  had  their  quar 
ters,  and  greeted  our  acquaintances.  Here  we  were 
entertained  with  an  account  of  the  Battle  of  Drain esville, 
in  which  the  regiment  had  been  under  fire  for  the  first 
time.  One  of  Taylor's  cousins  showed  us  the  coat  of  his 
uniform,  in  which  a  grapeshot  had  torn  a  hole.  The 
concussion  had  thrown  him  down  without  materially 
injuring  him,  and  his  comrades  teased  him  by  saying 
that  when  he  fell  he  cried  out :  *  There  are  both  my  legs 
gone!'  This  and  other  jokes  were  told  us.  The  Buck- 
tails  were  fortunate  in  this  battle.*  Fighting  against  an 
equal  number  of  the  enemy,  they  had  not  a  man  killed 
and  only  seven  or  eight  wounded,  which  they  ascribed 
to  the  poor  marksmanship  of  the  rebels. 

"  Our  quarters  for  the  night  was,  of  course,  the  hotel  in 
Washington.  Next  day  we  came  back  and  saw  a  review 
of  the  thirteen  regiments  that  had  distinguished  them 
selves  in  the  recent  battle.  The  weather  was  glorious, 
and  the  snow  sparkled  and  gleamed  in  the  sunlight.  We 
had  the  distinction  of  seeing  the  review  in  the  suite  of  the 
Governor  of  Pennsylvania  and  the  Secretary  of  War,  and 
were  pleased  that  the  Bucktails,  under  Fred's  command, 
were  placed  at  the  head  of  the  brigade,  and  received 
special  recognition  from  the  Governor  for  their  courageous 

*  This  regiment  was  later  engaged  in  the  most  murderous  battles  of 
the  war.  Very  few  of  the  young  people  of  Kennett  ever  saw  their 
homes  again ;  their  bones  lay  scattered  over  the  battlefields  from  Get 
tysburg  to  the  Wilderness. 


WAR  TIME  113 

behaviour  during  the  fight.  After  the  review  we  ac 
cepted  General  Reynolds' s*  invitation  and  dined  with  him 
in  his  tent.  There  we  found  our  friend  Charles  Lamborn 
(his  adjutant),  the  rest  of  his  staff,  and  brother  Fred  as 
his  guests.  The  dinner  was  very  good  and  all  were  in  the 
best  of  spirits — a  charming  intermezzo." 

The  last  day  of  the  year  saw  us  back  in  "  Cedarcrof t. " 
This  was  my  first  acquaintance  with  country  life  in 
winter.  Snowstorms  alternating  with  rainy  days  caused 
me  to  long  for  spring ;  for  not  until  then  would  the  roads 
be  passable  and  healthy  exercise  out  of  doors  possible. 
The  days  crept  by  monotonously  after  my  husband  again 
left  for  the  West  on  a  lecturing  tour.  Reading  his  let 
ters,  which  I  received  almost  daily,  was  my  favourite 
recreation.  He  wrote  to  me  from  Peoria,  111. :  "  I  passed 
through  the  scenery  described  in  the  'Haunted  Shanty,' 
and  was  surprised  to  find  that  I  had  remembered  it  so 
correctly." 

Another  time  he  sighed:  "O  that  I  had  everything  off 
my  hands,  except  the  novel!  I  work  at  that,  in  my  head, 
a  little  every  day."  From  Zanesville,  O.,  he  wrote 
among  other  things: 

"  I  was  attacked  by  a  bore,  who  asked  me  the  following 
questions : 

1.  What  is  the  cause  of  the  difference  in  the  manners  of 

nations  ? 

2.  Do  free  schools  promote  infidelity? 

3.  How  fast  do  ostriches  run? 

4.  Does  religion  depend  on  climate? 

5.  Would  Lapps  live  in  this  country? 

*  John  F.  Reynolds,  one  of  the  bravest  generals  of  the  Union  army, 
fell  on  the  first  day  at  Gettysburg. 


ii4  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

6.  Will  there  be  more  Protestant  sects  in  the  future? 

7.  What  people  live  in  Spitzbergen? 

8.  Did  Evil  originate  with  Adam? 

9.  How  large  is  the  white  bear? 

10.  Is  not  industry  fatal  to  civilization? 

I  answered  the  fool  according  to  his  folly." 

Apropos  of  these  questions,  I  cannot  refrain  from 
quoting  a  similar  experience  that  happened  to  Browning 
in  later  years,  and  which  he  himself  related  to  my  hus 
band.  At  a  dinner  party  he  was  requested  to  take  in  a 
lady,  who  hardly  gave  him  time  to  sit  down,  when  she 
began,  "  Oh,  Mr.  Browning,  I  have  been  wanting  so  much 
to  meet  you,  in  order  to  ask  you  some  questions:  Who 
were  the  Davenport  Brothers,  and  the  Plymouth  Breth 
ren?"  Browning  explained  to  the  best  of  his  ability, 
when  she  inquired  breathlessly :  '  'And  what  are  Yarmouth 
bloaters?" 

Bayard  Taylor  was  not  infrequently  victimised  by 
bores  of  this  sort.  I  remember  that  one  day,  while  we 
were  in  the  country,  a  strange  woman,  who  called  herself 
an  authoress,  paid  him  a  visit.  After  she  had  bored  him 
for  a  while,  and  still  gave  no  signs  of  leaving,  my  husband 
began  to  cough  violently,  and  excused  himself  with  the 
remark,  "We  have  an  epidemic  in  the  house  that  takes 
this  form" — in  two  minutes  the  woman  made  her  exit, 
and  he  was  rid  of  her. 

Although  usually  the  most  long  suffering  of  men,  yet 
Taylor  sometimes  very  nearly  lost  his  self-control  when 
tried  by  these  persons.  Once,  in  New  York,  a  stranger 
of  doubtful  education  forced  himself  upon  my  husband, 
and  bored  him  almost  to  death  for  more  than  half  an  hour. 


WAR  TIME  115 

At  last,  when  the  door  closed  upon  his  visitor,  he  cast 
himself  furiously  upon  a  roll  of  carpet  that  stood  in  a 
corner  ready  to  be  laid  down,  and  threw  it  from  one  end 
of  the  room  to  the  other.  I  happened  to  be  present,  and 
exclaiming,  "Quick,  a  cigar!"  I  offered  him  one,  and  a 
lighted  match  as  well.  This  approved  sedative  did  not 
fail  of  its  effect ;  a  few  puffs  and  his  anger  had  evaporated. 
In  the  first  half  of  February  Taylor  persuaded  me  to 
go  with  him  to  New  York  for  a  few  weeks.  I  had  an 
added  reason  for  doing  so;  our  friends,  the  Stoddards, 
had  suffered  the  misfortune  to  lose  their  six-year-old  son 
Willie  in  January.  I  hoped  to  afford  them  some  com 
fort  by  staying  in  the  same  boarding  house  in  which  they 
were  living.  Such  proved  to  be  the  case,  as  appears 
from  a  letter  to  my  mother-in-law : 

"  It  was,"  I  wrote,  "  a  trial  at  first  for  them  to  see  Lily, 
but  the  shock  of  the  first  meeting  over,  I  think  her  pres 
ence  is  beginning  to  be  of  some  comfort  to  them.  Willie 
had  the  strangest  longing  for  Kennett  and  Lily  ever  since 
his  last  visit,  and  Stoddard  has  the  touching  belief  that 
Willie  is  somewhere  near  him  as  long  a?  Lily  is  in  the 
room." 

On  March  8th  my  husband  came  home  and  said,  "  I 
have  just  been  at  the  Tribune  office,  and  have  been  asked 
to  go  to  Washington  as  the  head  correspondent  of  the 
paper.  A  battle  is  expected  there  hourly,  and  I  am  to 
report  it."  As  he  had  never  declined  a  service  to  the 
Tribune,  which  was,  so  to  speak,  his  alma  mater,  he  felt 
impelled  to  comply  also  with  this  request.  The  new 
turn  of  affairs  threw  us  into  great  excitement,  and  my 
heart  was  very  heavy  when  my  husband  was  ready  for 


n6  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

departure  next  day.  The  news  that  I  received  from  him 
during  the  following  weeks  may  rank  as  history,  and  I 
quote  some  extracts: 

"  WASHINGTON,  Monday  noon. 

"There  is  a  general  advance  this  morning  towards 
Manassas  (private) — the  rebels  have  left  their  batteries 
on  the  Potomac,  and  contrabands  who  came  yesterday 
say  they  are  leaving  Manassas.  The  general  impression 
here  is  that  there  will  not  be  much  fighting  after  all. 
Fred's  division  was  to  move  this  morning.  There  is 
motion  everywhere.  I  arrived  just  at  the  nick  of  time. 
I  shall  probably  not  start  until  to-morrow  morning.  I 
think  I  shall  have  chances  of  sending  every  day  from 
camp.  No  one  anticipates  hard  fighting.  So  don't  be 
concerned  about  me." 

"FAIRFAX  COURT  HOUSE,  Monday  evening,  March  10. 

"Here  I  am,  12  miles  from  Manassas.  After  writing 
to  you  this  morning,  the  news  came  that  the  whole  army 
was  moving  on  Centreville.  I  rushed  around  and  got 
everything  ready,  took  the  boat  for  Alexandria,  and  rode 
hither — 18  miles — by  dusk.  I  have  comfortable  quar 
ters  with  Gen.  Slocum  in  a  secession  house.  McClellan 
is  here.  The  rebels  are  leaving  Manassas  as  fast  as  they 
can.  There  will  be  no  fight,  or  next  to  none.  .  .  .  My 
horse  is  superb.  The  journey  was  grand.  50,000  men 
are  bivouacked  around  us  in  the  moonlight — drums  and 
trumpets  sound  on  all  sides." 

"WASHINGTON,  Wednesday,  3  P.  M. 
"I  have  just  returned  from  riding  two  miles  beyond 
Manassas.  I  got  there  ahead  of  McClellan,  and  20  hours 
after  the  Rebels.  I  am  stiff  and  sore  from  riding  70  miles, 
and  sleeping  two  nights  on  a  bare  plank.  The  weather 
has  been  glorious,  and  the  experience  something  to  remem 
ber  for  a  lifetime.  We  found  Manassas  burning,  a  dread- 


WAR  TIME  117 

ful  scene  of  ruin.  I  picked  up  a  bowie-knife,  plated 
spoon  and  wooden  fork,  but  could  not  find  a  pistol  for 
Dick.*  The  fortifications  are  a  damnable  humbug  and 
McClellan  has  been  completely  fooled." 

As  the  campaign  came  to  a  standstill  after  this  defeat, 
my  husband  returned  home  for  a  few  days,  and  went 
back  to  Washington  on  the  2oth  in  order  to  go  with  the 
army  to  Richmond — as  people  then  supposed.  The 
capital  of  Virginia  was  to  be  reached  by  water,  and  the 
army  was  therefore  to  be  conveyed  by  ship  to  Fortress 
Monroe,  which  was  garrisoned  by  Union  troops.  After 
his  arrival  in  Washington,  Taylor  wrote  to  me: 

"WASHINGTON,  Saturday  evening,  March  22,  1862. 

"I  rode  out  yesterday  afternoon,  to  find  McCall's 
division,  and  after  wading  1 2  miles  through  seas  of  mud, 
as  far  south  as  Munson's  Hill,  I  finally  found  them,  about 
i-J  miles  from  Alexandria.  They  are  camped  on  a  hill, 
in  little  tentes  d'abri  of  india-rubber  and  cedar-boughs, 
and  look  very  well,  after  all  their  marches  in  the  rain. 
Fred  is  very  rugged  and  hardy — more  so  than  ever  be 
fore.  .  .  .  The  Bucktails  want  me  to  embark  with 
them,  and  I  shall  try  to  do  so.  .  .  .  They  are  now 
attached  to  Gen.  Reynolds's  brigade.  ...  I  saw 
Hawthorne,  this  morning.  He,  also,  is  just  off  for 
Fortress  Monroe,  and  I  hope  to  meet  him  there  again. 
I  also  saw  Willis — but  he  is  too  Epicurean  to  follow  the 
army." 

"WASHINGTON,  Monday  afternoon,  March  24. 

"I  am  still  waiting,  but  with  the  prospect  of  getting 

off  on  Wednesday.     I  saw  Gen.   McDowell  last  night, 

and  he  says :  '  When  three  more  divisions  have  gone,  get 

ready!'     On   Saturday   about    10,000   troops   left,   and 

*Stoddard. 


n8  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

probably  as  many  yesterday.  We  shall  have  over  100,000 
in  all,  and  I  scarcely  anticipate  much  fighting.  .  .  . 
Senator  Chandler  told  me  he  thought  there  would  be 
none — that  the  rebels  would  not  make  a  stand  against 
so  large  a  force.  There  is  probably  fighting  at  Winches 
ter  to-day — a  continuation  of  yesterday's  battle.  We 
have  no  fears  for  the  result." 

The  next  letter  contained  utterly  unexpected  news 
that  seemed  suddenly  to  turn  everything  upside  down. 
It  read  thus: 

"WASHINGTON,  Wednesday  evening,  March  26,  '62. 
"I  write  in  haste,  on  account  of  unexpected  news. 
Cameron  (former  Secretary  of  War)  is  excessively 
anxious  that  I  should  be  his  Secretary  of  Legation  to 
Russia,  and  has  gone  so  far  as  to  speak  to  the  President 
about  it.  The  matter  now  rests  entirely  with  me.  The 
salary  is  not  much  ($1,800  or  $2,000),  but  Cameron  says 
he  shall  only  stay  six  months,  leaving  me  as  Charge 
d' Affaires,  and  gave  me  to  understand  that  I  could  be 
appointed  Minister,  in  case  he  did  not  return.  The 
Minister's  salary  is  $12,000  a  year.  I  must  decide  in 
three  days.  Now,  I  want  you  to  write  at  once  and  tell 
me  candidly  what  you  think.  ...  He  gives  me  until 
the  ist  of  May  to  get  ready,  in  case  I  can  go.  The 
proposition  strikes  me  favorably  in  one  respect — I  would 
have  splendid  facilities  for  making  my  Asiatic  tour. 
.  .  .  What  makes  me  hesitate  is  that  the  future  is  a 
little  doubtful.  If  the  Minister  ship  was  certain,  I  would 
not  hesitate  a  moment,  provided  you  thought  favorably 
of  the  matter.  .  .  .  Cameron  will  certainly  return 
to  America  in  the  fall,  and  I  should  be  Charge — that  is 
the  only  certainty.  Were  it  sure  that  he  could  be  elected 
Senator  (his  object  in  returning)  and  that  I  should  be 
appointed,  it  would  put  another  face  on  the  matter. 
Think  it  over,  and  give  rne  your  woman's  judgment. 


WAR  TIME  ng 

.  .  .  Decide  without  thinking  of  me.  My  mind  is  so 
evenly  balanced  that  it  will  be  even  easier  for  me  to 
say  no  than  yes.  In  fact,  I  almost  refused  him  to-night, 
and  only  hesitate  because  he  pressed  me  so  strongly. 
Personally  he  is  an  agreeable  man  and  is  said  to  be  very 
generous  and  devoted  towards  those  he  likes.  .  . 
Advise  me,  for  I  am  utterly  undecided." 

This  letter  reached  me  late  in  the  evening.  I  hoped 
that  the  night  would  bring  good  counsel,  but  shortly 
after  midnight  I  heard  a  carriage  drive  up  to  the  door, 
and  lo!  my  husband  had  come  to  advise  with  me  in 
person.  We  talked  long  together,  and  when  he  left  us 
again  next  morning  it  was  decided :  we  were  to  go. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  ST.  PETERSBURG  EPISODE 

EARLY  in  May  we  sailed  from  New  York  in  company 
with  the  Minister  and  his  family.  A  visit  to  my  parents 
had  been  the  joyful  project  that  had  beguiled  our  minds 
from  the  very  first.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cameron,  their  two 
daughters  and  youngest  son,  joined  us  at  Gotha  and  had 
their  first  experience  of  a  German  family  circle  and  of 
true  German  hospitality.  Then  my  husband  journeyed 
to  St.  Petersburg  with  them,  while  I  followed  in  the 
middle  of  July,  with  our  little  four-year-old  daughter. 
During  this  short  separation  my  husband  wrote  as 
follows : 

"Cameron  has  taken  the  house  now  occupied  by  Mr. 
Clay,*  and  will  move  into  it  in  two  or  three  days.  He 
insists  that  I  shall  live  with  them  until  you  come. 
Cameron  has  positively  announced  his  intention  of 
leaving  by  the  beginning  of  September.  Clay,  however, 
now  says  that  he  wants  to  come  back  after  Cameron 
returns,  and  has  written  to  the  President  about  it.  He 
is  very  free  and  easy  in  his  talk  about  it,  saying  that  he 
will  leave  his  family  at  home  and  come  back.  .  .  .  This 
looks  threatening  to  my  prospects;  but  I  don't  believe 
Clay  will  ever  get  back  here  again.  He  is  .  .  .  rather 
proud  of  being  Major  General  and  the  chances  are  that 
he  will  stay  at  home  when  he  gets  there." 

*  Cassius  M.  Clay,  who  had  resigned  the  post  of  Minister  to  Russia 
in  order  to  join  the  army 

I2O 


THE   ST.  PETERSBURG   EPISODE          121 

"  Legation  of  the  United  States, 
"ST.  PETERSBURG,  Monday,  June  23,  1862. 
"I  returned  this  morning  from  Pulkowa,  after  a  very 
agreeable  visit.     .     .     .     After  breakfast  this  morning, 
I  rode  into   the  city  in   a  peasant's   bondkara.     I   im 
mediately    brought    my    luggage    here,    to    the    evident 
satisfaction  of  the  ladies,  who  have  a  lonely  time  of  it. 
.     .     .     I  have  ordered  a  Russian  teacher.     It  provokes 
me  not  to  know  the  language.     I  begin  already  to  under 
stand  a  word  here  and  there." 

"ST.  PETERSBURG,  Monday  night,  June  30,  1862. 
"  On  Sunday  we  were  again  at  Tzarskoe-Selo,  and  saw 
the  Empress.  I  was  delighted  with  her  grace,  self- 
possession  and  evident  intellect.  She  spoke  to  me  in 
German,  and  inquired  about  my  travels  over  the  world, 
of  which  she  had  heard.  .  .  .  We  had  another 
handsome  breakfast  at  Tzarskoe,  and  were  taken  through 
the  park  in  the  Imperial  carriages." 

In  the  last  of  these  letters  was  enclosed  the  beautiful 
sonnet 

"Once  more  without  you!"  * 

which  my  husband  had  written  the  day  before. 

After  my  arrival  in  St.  Petersburg,  my  first  excursion 
was  a  visit  to  Pulkowa,  where  the  Imperial  Observatory 
crowns  a  hill,  comprising  many  buildings  surrounded  by 
park-like  grounds.  I  made  frequent  and  pleasant  visits 
there  during  my  stay  in  Russia.  The  higher  officials 
of  this  magnificent  scientific  institute  were  all  Germans — 
to  the  number  of  five  or  six,  who  each  occupied  a  spacious 
apartment,  and  united  with  their  families  to  form  an 

*  Published  in  the  Household  Edition  under  the  title  "From  the 
North." 


122  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

i 

agreeable  social  circle.  My  brother-in-law,  August  von 
Wagner,  occupied  the  position  next  in  rank  to  that  of  the 
Director,  Otto  von  Struwe. 

In  the  capital  society  was  passing  through  its  dullest 
season.  The  diplomatic  circle  and  the  Russian  aristoc 
racy,  with  whom  we  were  to  associate,  were  either  in  the 
country  or  travelling.  The  Court  was  at  Tzarskoe-Selo, 
afterward  going  to  Novgorod  and  Moscow,  and  did 
not  return  to  the  Winter  Palace  on  the  Neva  until  the 
New  Year.  It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  a  lady  of  the 
diplomatic  corps  could  be  presented  before  the  latter 
date,  and  in  the  interim  visiting  in  Russian  houses  was 
out  of  the  question. 

Under  these  circumstances  the  Legation  joyfully  took 
advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  make  an  excursion  to 
Moscow  and  Nishni-Novgorod  late  in  August.  The 
great  fair,  which  promoted  trade  between  Russia  and 
Asia,  was  just  being  held  at  the  latter  place  and  was  an 
attraction.  The  invitation  for  this  trip  was  extended 
by  Messrs.  Ross  Winans  &  Company,  who  had  built  the 
railway  between  St.  Petersburg  and  Moscow,  and  farther 
into  the  interior,  for  the  Russian  Government ;  they  proved 
most  munificent  hosts  in  the  person  of  their  representa 
tive,  Mr.  Pierce,  who  accompanied  us.  We,  with  servants, 
formed  a  party  of  ten  persons.  We  were  housed  in  a  car 
fitted  out  in  the  most  comfortable  style  and  were  treated 
everywhere  with  the  utmost  liberality.  In  this  way  I 
saw  the  old  Tartar  city,  Moscow,  which  my  husband  had 
visited  already,  with  its  numerous  gold,  silver  and  green 
onion-shaped  cupolas,  its  Asiatic-Byzantine  character 
and  its  wondrous  Kremlin.  Of  all  the  sights  that  I 
beheld  there  in  swift  review  two  only  stand  forth  vividly 


THE  ST.  PETERSBURG  EPISODE          123 

in  my  memory.  One  was  the  astounding  basilica  of 
Ivan  the  Terrible,  the  Vasili  Blakenoi,*  which  can  be 
compared  to  no  other  church  in  the  world,  and  seems  to 
have  been  put  together  by  chance  out  of  towers  of  varying 
height,  form  and  colour.  Taylor  called  it  "  the  apotheosis 
of  chimneys."  The  effect  of  the  interior  is  thrilling  and 
eerie.  From  every  cupola  of  the  slender  towers  a  colossal 
face  of  the  Virgin,  or  of  the  Saviour,  looks  weirdly  down 
with  great,  staring  eyes  upon  the  beholder,  until  awe 
overcomes  him  and  he  is  fain  to  turn  away.  The  other 
sight  that  I  remember  is  entirely  different.  Among  a 
magnificent  collection  of  old  vestments,  kept  in  the 
building  of  the  Holy  Synod  on  the  Kremlin,  I  recall  the 
most  marvellous  one  of  all.  Woven  of  gold  and  silver 
threads,  the  entire  fabric  seemed  to  gleam  with  a  rosy 
shimmer.  A  broad  band  of  crimson  velvet  bordered  the 
garment.  It  was  elaborately  embroidered  with  arabesques 
formed  of  seed  pearls,  interspersed  here  and  there  with  a 
brilliant  diamond  or  a  large  pearl  of  great  value.  The 
groundwork  of  gold  and  silver  tissue  was  decked  with 
medallions  enclosing  scenes  from  the  New  Testament — 
the  Crucifixion,  the  Entombment,  etc.,  the  outlines  of 
which  consisted  of  rows  of  tiny  pearls;  the  faces  of  the 
figures  were  wrought  with  the  needle  in  the  finest  silk. 
Words  are  inadequate  to  describe  the  exquisite  effect  of 
this  wonderful  example  of  ancient  Byzantine  art. 

In  Nishni  those  of  us  who  did  not  know  the  Orient 
were  ushered  into  a  new  and  strange  world.  A  piece 
of  Asia  was  there  presented  to  the  eye.  But  I  pass  by  all 
this,  and  will  mention  only  a  thoroughly  Russian  meal, 

*Described  by  Bayard  Taylor  in  his  volume  "Greece  and  Russia," 
P-  338- 


i24  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

that  we  had  asked  to  have  served  to  us,  for  the  sake  of  the 
experience.  The  Russian  waiters  all  wore  the  national 
costume  of  shirt  and  trousers,  the  latter  stuffed  into  high 
boots.  The  head  waiter  alone  was  dressed  in  a  shirt  of 
silk,  of  Persian  weave,  shimmering  pale  blue  and  white. 
After  the  appetiser,  called  sakusti,  which  is  partaken  of 
standing  at  a  side  table,  we  took  our  places,  and  soup 
was  served  accompanied  by  patties  filled  with  aspic  and 
finely  chopped  herbs.  While  we  were  eating  this  course 
the  cooks,  dressed  in  white,  appeared  in  the  dining-room 
bearing  a  large  vessel,  in  which  the  precious  sterlet  of  the 
Volga  was  swimming;  this  they  carried  in  solemn  pro 
cession  around  the  table,  to  show  that  the  fish  was  alive 
when  ready  to  be  cooked,  for  thus  alone  could  its  inimita 
bly  delicate  flavour  be  preserved.  (In  St.  Petersburg 
this  custom  was  observed  at  large  dinners  in  Russian 
families.)  While  we  were  waiting  for  the  reappearance 
of  the  fish,  the  waiters  served  an  entr6e  and  at  the  same 
time  placed  upon  the  table  large  gold  and  silver  ewers  of 
antique  form  and  workmanship.  These  contained  beer 
and  another  peculiar  brew  consisting  of  beer,  lemons  and 
spices,  that  reminded  me  of  a  mixture  called  Maulesel 
(mule),  which  I  had  tasted  in  my  childhood.  These 
ewers  were  passed  from  hand  to  hand,  according  to  the 
Russian  custom,  and  each  gentleman  was  expected  to 
drink  from  the  spot  where  the  preceding  lady  had  placed 
her  lips.  Of  the  other  courses  I  will  mention  only  the  roast, 
which  consisted  of  sucking  pigs  of  the  tenderest  age,  most 
deliciously  cooked,  and  the  salad,  that  I  have  since  vainly 
tried  to  reproduce.  It  filled  a  large,  deep  bowl  and  appeared 
to  be  a  medley  of  pieces  of  watermelon,  small  cucumbers, 
grapes  and  cherries,  mingled  with  little  lumps  of  ice. 


THE   ST.  PETERSBURG  EPISODE          125 

In  September  the  Minister  with  his  family  took  leave 
of  absence,  and  went  back  to  America  by  way  of  Italy. 
My  husband  remained  as  Charge  d' Affaires  and  only 
incumbent  of  the  Legation  with  a  salary  of  $6,000,  a 
sum  so  inadequate  to  the  expenses  of  the  position  that  we 
were  obliged  to  restrict  ourselves  as  much  as  possible. 
To  my  great  consolation  I  discovered  later  that  there 
were  several  other  diplomatic  representatives  in  the 
same  plight;  the  only  difference  being  that  their  home 
governments  were  not,  like  the  United  States,  numbered 
among  the  important  nations. 

Meanwhile  our  mode  of  life  was  quiet.  In  October  the 
diplomats  gradually  began  to  return  to  St.  Petersburg, 
and  one  of  the  first  acquaintances  we  made  was  that  of 
the  English  Ambassador,  Lord  Napier.  In  the  absence 
of  Lady  Napier,  Mrs.  Locock,  the  wife  of  one  of  the 
attaches,  acted  as  hostess  of  the  Embassy.  I  was  pleased 
to  find  in  her  an  old  acquaintance  from  Athens,  the  daugh 
ter  of  the  American  clergyman,  Doctor  King.  This  was 
fortunate,  since  she  was  able  to  introduce  me  to  some 
other  ladies  of  the  diplomatic  corps,  among  others  to  the 
Duchess  of  Montebello,  at  the  French  Embassy.  We 
found  a  small  company  gathered  around  the  tea  table 
of  the  Ambassadress,  an  Englishwoman  by  birth.  The 
conversation  did  not  rise  above  the  level  of  the  common 
place.  The  Duchess  entertained  us  for  some  time  with 
the  praise  of  a  certain  healing  salve,  by  the  application  of 
which  she  had  often  worked  cures  among  the  retainers  of 

her  father,  Lord  L .  Much  more  entertaining  was  an 

evening  with  the  Belgian  Minister,  Baron  Gevers,  whose 
wife  was  an  American.  One  of  the  few  guests  was  Count 
Golz,  who  was  about  to  exchange  his  post  of  Minister  at 


126  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

St.  Petersburg  for  that  of  Paris,  which  had  become  vacant 
by  the  appointment  of  Bismarck  as  Prime  Minister  in 
Berlin.  The  grounds  for  this  nomination,  and  the  state 
of  affairs  in  Prussia  were  of  course  the  subject  of  discussion. 
The  latter  seemed  to  assume  the  shape  of  a  giant  question 
mark,  and  people  wondered  what  sort  of  an  influence  the 
new  Prime  Minister  would  exert  upon  the  fortunes  of  the 
country.  Count  Golz,  when  asked  what  manner  of  man 
von  Bismarck  was,  like  a  true  diplomat,  answered  evasively 
that  he  had  created  a  very  favourable  impression  both 
in  St.  Petersburg  and  in  Frankfort  by  his  agreeable 
address.  So  little  did  anyone  then  dream  what  a  star 
of  the  first  magnitude  had  arisen  in  his  person  in  the 
Cabinet  of  King  William  I.  of  Prussia. 

The  situation  in  the  United  States  had  hardly  changed 
for  the  better  since  our  departure  in  May,  and  now 
began  to  cause  us  some  anxiety,  the  more  so  because 
France  and  England  displayed  their  sympathy  with  the 
Southern  States  more  openly ;  an  intervention  in  favour 
of  the  latter  seeming  to  become  an  ever  more  threatening 
danger.  Taylor's  responsibility,  as  the  representative 
of  our  Government,  was  thus  not  by  any  means  a  slight 
one.  It  was  necessary,  in  the  face  of  any  reverses  that 
the  Union  army  might  suffer,  to  preserve  the  confidence 
of  the  Russian  Government  (hitherto  the  only  friendly 
power)  in  the  final  victory  of  the  North.  As  Taylor 
himself  was  firmly  convinced  of  the  certainty  of  this 
ultimate  triumph,  he  at  length  succeeded,  after  several 
long  and  very  interesting  interviews  with  Prince  Gortch- 
acow,  in  enlisting  the  sympathies  of  this  astute  diplomat 
entirely  on  the  side  of  the  Federal  Government,  and  in 
firmly  establishing  the  friendship  of  the  two  powers — 


THE   ST.  PETERSBURG  EPISODE          127 

Russia  and  the  United  States.  In  these  diplomatic 
conversations  the  personal  magnetism  which  my  husband 
possessed  in  so  great  a  measure  may  perhaps  have  con 
tributed  not  a  little  to  this  result,  as  seems  to  be  indicated 
by  the  following  paragraph  from  his  despatch  to  Secretary 
of  State  William  H.  Seward,  under  date  of  October  29, 
1862: 

"  We  were  standing  face  to  face  during  the  conversation, 
and  the  earnest,  impassioned  manner  of  the  Prince  im 
pressed  me  with  the  fact  that  he  was  speaking  from  his 
heart.  At  the  close  of  the  interview  he  seized  my  hand, 
gave  it  a  strong  pressure,  and  exclaimed,  *  God  bless  you! ' ' 

Later,  after  this  despatch  had  been  published  in 
America,  Lord  Napier  took  occasion  to  refer  to  these 
words  at  the  close  of  an  audience  with  Prince  Gortchacow, 
by  ironically  remarking:  "When  shall  I  be  as  fortunate 
as  Mr.  Taylor,  and  receive  a  'God  bless  you'  from  Your 
Excellency?"  "As  soon  as  you  deserve  it!"  replied  the 
Prince.  The  latter  afterward  smilingly  related  the  inci 
dent  to  my  husband. 

In  his  intercourse  with  Taylor  Lord  Napier  scarcely 
ever  assumed  his  role  of  English  Ambassador;  he  seemed 
to  take  pains  to  avoid  any  discussion  of  American  affairs. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  could  not  refrain  from  asking  me 
confidentially  one  day  whether  my  husband  was  in  reality 
so  thoroughly  convinced  of  the  final  defeat  of  the  South 
as  he  professed  to  be.  Lord  Napier  appeared  to  be  about 
fifty  years  of  age;  his  white  hair,  that  contrasted  well 
with  his  fresh  complexion  and  blue  eyes,  combined  to 
make  him,  although  not  strictly  handsome,  a  fine-looking 
man.  His  manner  was  amiable  and  unconventional. 


128  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

He  told  me,  much  to  my  surprise,  that  he  had  received 
his  education  in  a  school  at  Meiningen.*  He  was  very 
friendly  toward  us,  whereas  the  German  Legations  treated 
us  with  marked  coldness.  The  wife  of  the  Prussian 
Legationsrath  (Councillor  of  Legation)  von  Pirch,  by 
birth  a  Princess  of  Thurn  und  Taxis,  was  the  only  German 
lady  who  seemed  to  take  pains  to  overlook  my  unaristo- 
cratic  lineage.  If  I  had  been  an  American  born  the 
diplomatic  corps  would  have  approved  of  me  to  a  greater 
degree;  but  as  a  German,  and  not  of  the  nobility,  I  was 
a  stumbling  block  in  their  path,  which  could  not  be 
ignored  on  account  of  my  husband's  official  position. 
Besides  the  English  Embassy,  the  members  of  the 
Russian  aristocracy  treated  us  with  consideration.  Their 
social  tone  was  always  as  courteous  as  it  was  free  from 
formal  stiffness.  In  the  drawing-rooms  of  the  Russian 
nobility  we  made  many  pleasant  acquaintances.  I 
recall  with  special  interest  a  friendly  lady  beside  whom 
I  found  a  seat  at  a  very  crowded  soiree.  She  began  to 
converse  with  me  without  waiting  for  an  introduction, 
and  we  both  agreed  that  the  elegant  society  assembled 
around  us  offered  very  little  that  was  worth  taking  home 
as  a  stimulus  to  the  heart  or  the  intellect.  "77  n'y  a 
pour  taut  que  le  cercle  intime  qui  donne  de  Vagrement"  f 
was  her  resume",  in  which  opinion  I  fully  concurred.  I 
was  afterward  told  that  I  had  been  talking  to  the  Princess 
Gagarin. 

Except  for  the  duty  of  more  securely  binding  the 
friendship  of  Russia  to  the  United  States,  the  business  of 
the  Legation  was  not  of  great  importance,  so  that  Taylor 

*  The  capital  of  the  small  Duchy  of  Saxe-Meiningen. 

f  "After  all,  it  is  only  our  intimate  circle  that  gives  us  enjoyment." 


THE  ST.  PETERSBURG  EPISODE          129 

was  able  to  cope  with  it  even  without  the  assistance  of  a 
secretary.  He  had  sufficient  leisure  to  continue  his 
novel,  which  he  finished  in  the  course  of  the  winter,  and 
also  to  write  poetry.  Among  the  poems  that  he  wrote 
at  this  time  was  included  the  one  entitled  "A  Thousand 
Years,"  which  was  suggested  by  the  celebration  of  the 
thousandth  anniversary  of  the  founding  of  the  Russian 
Empire,  held  at  Novgorod  on  September  2oth.  This 
poem  earned  the  thanks  of  the  Emperor  and  raised  its 
author  above  the  usual  level  of  the  American  representa 
tives  at  the  Russian  Court. 

The  apartment  on  the  bel  etage  *  that  we  had  rented  and 
where  we  made  our  home  was  situated  in  the  Gallenoi 
(Galley  Street),  not  far  from  the  Admiralty  Square 
and  the  Winter  Palace.  We  had  secured  the  services 
of  Ivan,  the  chasseur  who  had  been  in  the  employ  of  the 
Legation  for  a  number  of  years,  and  spoke  English  pretty 
well.  We  found  him  very  useful  in  many  ways;  for 
instance,  when  sitting  upon  the  box  beside  our  stately 
Russian  coachman,  he  would  knock  on  the  window  pane 
to  let  us  know  that  a  member  of  the  Imperial  family  was 
approaching  in  a  carriage  or  on  foot,  so  that  we  might 
be  ready  to  make  our  salutation.  This  was  necessary, 
for  the  Russian  drivers,  guiding  their  horses  with  four 
reins,  drive  at  an  exceedingly  fast  pace,  and  the  carriages 
pass  each  other  in  a  flash.  In  November  I  wrote  to  a 
friend  concerning  the  many  and  varied  sights  that  began 
to  enliven  St.  Petersburg: 

"  Winter  alone  gives  one  an  insight  into  the  life  here. 
Society  starts  upon  its  gay  round.  Ladies  and  gentle- 

*Up  one  flight  of  stairs,  considered  the  most  elegant  floor. 


1 30  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

men  wrapped  in  costly  sables  drive  swiftly  along  the 
Nevsky  or  the  Neva  Quai.  The  equipages,  with  thorough 
bred  horses,  are  magnificent;  the  portly  coachmen  wear 
bushy  hair  and  thick  beards,  visorless  round  or  square 
caps  of  red,  sky-blue,  or  green  velvet,  edged  with  fur, 
and  wide-skirted  coats  lined  with  fur  and  gathered  in  at 
the  waist  to  a  tight-fitting  body  portion — truly  a  superb 
sight!" 

And  again  in  December: 

"Now  we  have  sleighing,  and  it  is  pleasant  to  see  the 
countless  small  sleighs  pass  by  with  bells  a-ringing,  but 
most  beautiful  of  all  is  a  troika  dashing  along  with  three 
horses  abreast.  The  frozen  Neva  is  covered  with  snow, 
and  little  pine  trees  mark  the  paths  across  the  river, 
as  well  as  poles  surmounted  by  lanterns.  At  intervals 
Christmas  booths  are  set  up,  made  of  boards,  and  the 
Finnish  Lapps  have  arrived  with  their  reindeer  sledges; 
all  these  together  form  a  strange  and  gay  winter  scene. 
The  season's  amusements  indoors  have  also  begun. 
We  are  going  out  more  now,  and  notice  it  in  the  shrink 
age  of  our  purse.  People  dress  expensively  here,  every 
evening  in  grande  toilette,  and  everything  that  apper 
tains  to  it  is  even  dearer  in  St.  Petersburg  than  in 
New  York.  In  order  to  save  as  much  as  possible  I  spend 
a  large  portion  of  my  time  in  altering  and  rearranging 
my  not  very  extensive  wardrobe  in  the  most  advantageous 
way,  an  occupation  that  begins  to  fill  me  with  disgust,  as 
it  robs  me  of  so  much  valuable  time.  I  also  miss  the 
friends  who  used  to  drop  in  of  an  evening  in  New  York, 
and  with  whom  we  could  have  confidential  talks.  In 
stead,  we  must  go  among  strangers  here  in  order  to  get 
acquainted." 


THE   ST.  PETERSBURG  EPISODE          131 

We  spent  Christmas  with  my  sister,  her  husband  and 
children.  Taylor  gave  me  a  beautiful  watch,  that  he 
presented  to  me  in  a  hatbox,  hidden  under  a  mass  of 
loose  bits  of  paper,  a  way  in  which  he  liked  to  conceal 
gifts.  Soon  after  came  the  Russian  New  Year,  and  with 
it  my  presentation  at  Court.  I  used  my  best  efforts  to 
appear  bien  mise,  and  wore  a  white,  very  much  pleated 
and  puffed  dress  of  tarlatan,  which  (to  quote  from  my 
diary)  "lay  like  freshly  fallen  snow  upon  a  white  silk 
lining."  We  drove  up  to  the  Winter  Palace  (alighting 
on  the  Perron  de  VEmpereur),  laid  aside  our  furs  in  the 
spacious  vestibule,  and  proceeded  up  the  broad  carpeted 
stairway  that  was  guarded  by  grenadiers.  Above,  at 
every  entrance  to  the  halls,  were  stationed  two  gigantic 
guards  with  bearskin  caps  a  foot  or  two  in  height,  as  well 
as  the  body  servants  of  the  Emperor,  black  Nubians  in 
white  turbans  and  Indian  shawls  draped  around  shoulders 
and  loins.  The  card-room,  adjoining  the  superb  hall 
of  audience  of  the  Empress,  was  the  place  where  the  diplo 
matic  corps  assembled.  Here  I  was  introduced  to  the 
Maitresse  de  la  Cour  and  to  the  Maitres  de  Ceremonies. 
The  latter,  distinguished  by  their  Marshal's  wands,  wore 
coats  richly  embroidered  with  gold,  white  silk  knee 
breeches,  flesh-coloured  stockings,  and  shoes  with  golden 
buckles.  When  all  the  hundreds  of  guests  had  arrived, 
and  were  waiting  in  the  ballroom,  the  folding  doors  into 
the  latter  were  thrown  open  for  us.  A  fairy-like  illumi 
nation,  produced  by  innumerable  wax  candles,  met  our 
eyes,  while  we  were  guided  to  a  vacant  space  at  one  end 
of  the  immense  hall,  and  drawn  up  in  order  of  rank. 
In  a  few  moments  a  "  Sh!  sh! "  of  the  Masters  of  Ceremony 
heralded  their  majesties,  who  entered  with  the  Grand 


132  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

Dukes  and  Duchesses  and  the  entire  household  of  the 
Court.  The  Empress  looked  very  winning  and  at  the 
same  time  noble ;  her  toilette  was  at  once  rich  and  in  the 
best  of  taste.  She  wore  a  dress  of  silk  tulle  over  white 
silk.  Hanging  loosely  on  the  full  skirt,  as  if  it  had 
slipped  down  to  her  hips,  a  broad  light-blue  velvet  sash, 
with  a  rope  of  diamonds  twisted  around  it,  girdled  her 
form.  On  one  side  it  was  gathered  into  a  knot,  upon 
which  a  large  fiery  diamond  sparkled  and  scintillated; 
between  the  long  ends  of  the  sash  hung  two  ropes  of 
large  pearls.  By  her  side  was  the  Emperor,*  in  those 
days  a  very  handsome  and  prepossessing  man.  He  was 
tall  and  well  proportioned,  with  a  blond  beard  and 
moustache,  and  a  friendly  'expression  of  the  eyes.  He 
wore  a  uniform  consisting  of  a  white  coat  bordered  with 
sable  and  laced  with  gold  cord,  close  light-blue  breeches, 
and  black  boots  reaching  almost  to  the  knees.  He 
carried  a  high  fur  cap  in  his  hand.  After  the  polonaise, 
which  was  opened  by  their  majesties,  the  Emperor  spoke 
with  several  high  personages,  and  then  conversed  with  the 
diplomatic  corps.  Taylor's  turn  came.  The  Emperor 
exchanged  a  few  words  with  my  husband,  and  then  ad 
dressed  himself  to  me.  As  I  had  not  expected  this,  not 
having  been  presented,  I  was  somewhat  taken  aback  by 
his  first  question,  but  retained  my  self-possession  and 
answered  him  with  confidence.  He  looked  at  me  sharply, 
and  wished  to  know  to  what  nationality  I  belonged,  how 
I  had  met  my  husband,  how  long  I  was  married,  and 
if  I  had  any  children. 

After  several  dances  Count  von  Armfelt  came  for  me 
and  conducted  me  to  the  card-room,  where  he  posted  me 

*Alexander   II. 


THE   ST.  PETERSBURG  EPISODE          133 

at  the  head  of  a  long  row  of  ladies  who  were  to  be  pre 
sented;  then  the  Empress  appeared.  She  looked  so 
sweet  and  good  that  I  felt  entirely  at  my  ease.  She  asked 
me  when  I  had  arrived,  whether  the  climate  agreed  with 
me,  if  I  went  out  of  doors  or  sleigh  riding  often?  And 
thus  the  dreaded  moment,  that  after  all  was  not  in  the 
least  dreadful,  was  happily  past. 

During  the  course  of  this  ball  my  husband  introduced 
me  to  a  number  of  diplomats  and  Russian  high  dignitaries, 
with  the  result  that  I  was  regularly  initiated  into  St. 
Petersburg  society.  Among  the  acquaintances  I  made 
soon  after  were  three  unmarried  Russian  princesses, 
the  youngest  of  whom  might  have  been  fifty,  while  the 
eldest  was  perhaps  sixty-five  years  of  age.  The  second 
sister,  Princess  Anne,  represented  the  others  in  society 
(people  said  for  reasons  of  economy)  and  acted  as  hostess 
at  their  home.  We  were  told  that  all  three  had  always 
shown  an  especial  predilection  for  the  American  Min 
isters,  and  had  been  most  courteous  to  them.  But  of  all 
the  series,  Pickens*  had  been  the  particular  protege  of 
Princess  Anne,  and  scarcely  had  she  made  the  acquaint 
ance  of  Bayard  Taylor  when  she  inquired  most  solicit 
ously  what  would  become  of  Pickens  in  case  the  North 
should  be  victorious.  "Oh,  we  will  string  him  up!" 
was  my  husband's  laughing  rejoinder,  and  thenceforth 
they  never  met  without  a  playful  appeal  from  the  Princess : 
"Monsieur,  de  grdce  ne  me  pendez-pas  mon  Pickens, 
sauvez-moi  mon  Pickens! |  The  ladies  had  a  mania  for 
giving  small  dinners  to  the  diplomats,  and  while  the  other 

*  Francis  W.  Pickens,  elected  Governor  of  South  Carolina,  Novem 
ber  26,  1860. 

f'Sir,  for  pity's  sake,  do  not  hang  my  Pickens,  save  my  Pickens 
for  me!" 


i34  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

two  sisters  remained  more  or  less  in  the  background, 
Princess  Anne  played  the  amiable  hostess.  On  one  of 
the  occasions  the  eldest  princess  expressed  herself  very 
bitterly  to  me  concerning  the  emancipation  of  the  serfs, 
which  had  lately  been  proclaimed  by  Alexander  II.  The 
income  of  the  sisters  had  probably  been  reduced  by  this 
event,  for  the  Princess,  touching  her  diamond  ear-drops, 
said  to  me:  "It  is  equivalent  to  the  Czar's  taking  these 
away  from  me."  At  one  of  these  little  dinners  an  old 
Russian  general  happened  to  be  my  neighbour  at  the 
table.  During  our  conversation  the  old  gentleman,  who 
sat  opposite  my  husband,  suddenly  said  to  me :  "  Madame, 
il  faut  que  je  vous  fais  mon  compliment  qui  concerne  votre 
mari.  Je  ne  me  souviens  guere  d 'avoir  vu  un  si  bel  homme 
avec  une  expression  si  spirituelle."  *  It  need  hardly  be 
said  that  we  became  friends. 

This  Russian  was  not  the  only  person  who  was  charmed 
by  the  personal  magnetism  of  my  husband.  The  Grand 
Duchesses  Helen  and  Marie  (Duchess  of  Leuchtenberg) 
showed  him  special  favour  on  more  than  one  occasion, 
and  even  the  Empress  engaged  him  in  a  lengthy  conver 
sation  at  one  of  the  smaller  Court  balls.  Taylor  was  then 
able  to  speak  Russian  to  some  extent,  which  seemed  to 
please  Her  Majesty  very  much.  Besides  these  functions, 
when  the  Emperor  always  had  some  pleasant  words  for 
us,  we  saw  him  from  time  to  time  in  the  houses  of  the  high 
Russian  nobility.  He  never  danced  there,  but  instead 
played  a  game  of  cards,  in  which  usually  the  old  Countess 
Russamowsky  took  part.  This  old  lady  of  over  ninety 
was  always  in  evidence  in  society.  She  was  powdered 

*  "Madam,  I  must  pay  you  a  compliment  concerning  your  husband. 
I  scarcely  ever  remember  to  have  seen  so  handsome  a  man  with  so 
spiritual  an  expression." 


THE  ST.  PETERSBURG  EPISODE          135 

and  painted,  with  black  hair  (or  wig),  an  erect  figure  in 
a  low-necked,  short-sleeved  gown.  Her  voice  was  a  deep 
bass,  and  once  when  we  called  upon  her  we  were  mysti 
fied  by  a  gruff  throaty  sound  that  accompanied  her  words, 
until  we  discovered  that  this  note  was  the  growling  of  a 
small  dog,  held  by  the  Countess  under  her  arm  and  con 
cealed  by  a  black  lace  shawl. 

Taylor  did  not  play  cards,  neither  did  he  dance,  and 
as  I  only  occasionally  joined  in  a  quadrille,  the  balls  soon 
began  to  grow  tiresome.  There  were  always  the  same 
conventional  phrases,  always  the  same  vapid  conver 
sations,  and  the  brilliant  superficial  glamour  gradually 
began  to  pall  on  us.  A  few  dinners  and  petite s  soirees 
were  the  agreeable  exceptions  to  this  general  rule.  In 
Lent  the  routs  took  the  place  of  the  balls.  A  musicale  was 
given  in  the  English  Embassy  to  celebrate  the  marriage 
of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  we  listened  to  the  exquisite 
playing  of  the  youthful  Rubinstein,  who  was  even  then 
the  spoiled  darling  of  the  Russian  aristocracy.  One  of 
the  last  large  entertainments  of  the  winter  season  was 

given  by  the  Count  and  Countess  C ,  and  proved  to  be 

the  most  brilliant  of  all  the  routs,  although  the  highest 
nobility  was  very  sparingly  represented.  The  reason 
for  this  lay  in  the  mesalliance  of  the  Countess.  A  member 
of  one  of  the  oldest  princely  families  of  Russia,  and  the 
middle-aged  widow  of  a  Russian  of  equal  rank,  she  had 
married  while  living  in  Paris  a  Frenchman  much  younger 
than  herself,  and  not  of  aristocratic  blood.  In  order  to 
acquire  for  him  the  rank  of  a  nobleman,  she  had  bought 
in  his  name  a  castle  in  Brittany,  which  conferred  upon  its 

owner  the  titles  of  Count  of  C and  Marquis  of  S . 

The  husband,  however,  was  an  educated  man  of  agree- 


136  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

able  presence  and  tactful  manners.  Taylor  one  day,  in 
a  small  company  gathered  around  our  tea  table,  com 
mented  upon  the  philosophical  turn  of  mind  of  Count 
C ,  and  remarked  that  he  proclaimed  never  to  be  sur 
prised  or  anxious,  that  he  bore  happiness  or  ill-luck  with 

equal  calmness,  whereupon  Prince  G replied:  "  Why 

shouldn't  he?  II  a  ett  si  souvent  dans  I' entourage  de  la 
mort."*  "Comment  fa?"f  I  questioned.  "But  are  you 
not  aware  that  his  father  made  coffins?"  As  it  was  the 
first  fete  that  the  Countess  gave  after  her  return  from 
Paris,  she  sought  to  regain  by  brilliance  and  splendour 
what  she  had  lost  of  prestige.  She  had  succeeded  so  well 
in  this  endeavour,  with  the  help  of  her  immense  wealth 
and  her  palace  filled  with  art  treasures  of  all  kinds,  that 
even  the  aristocratic  Russians,  accustomed  as  they  were 
to  splendour,  exclaimed:  "Mais,  c'est  imperial!"  At 
this  festivity  we  saw  the  old  Russian  custom  carried  into 
effect,  of  exhibiting  the  family  jewels  in  the  bedchamber 
of  the  mistress  of  the  house.  They  were  exposed  in  glass 
cases,  and  occupied  a  long  table;  a  maid  and  several 
lackeys  stood  guard  over  them.  They  consisted  of 
diamonds,  pearls,  rubies,  and  emeralds.  The  latter  alone 
represented  an  enormous  fortune. 

At  this  time — in  the  month  of  March — a  lucky  chance 
enabled  Bayard  Taylor  to  render  an  important  service  to 
his  Government.  A  despatch  from  the  Confederate 
Government  to  their  agent,  who  had  shortly  before 
arrived  in  St.  Petersburg,  had  strayed  into  the  Legation 
of  the  United  States,  and  having  thus  got  into  the  hands 
of  the  legitimate  representative,  was  promptly  sent  by 

*  "He  has  been  so  often  in  the  neighbourhood  of  death!  " 

t"How  is  that?" 


THE  ST.  PETERSBURG  EPISODE          137 

him  to  Washington.  But  in  spite  of  all  the  services  that 
Taylor  had  succeeded  in  rendering  the  Government 
during  the  time  he  was  Charge  a" Affaires,  he  had  known 
for  some  time  past  that  he  had  no  chance  of  securing  the 
higher  post.  Late  in  November  Mr.  Cameron  had 
written  to  him  that  the  President,  who  "had  been 
greatly  troubled  by  Mr.  Clay,  in  an  unguarded  moment 
had  made  a  partial  promise  to  let  him  go  back"  if  he 
(Cameron)  should  not  wish  to  return.  "It  was  agreed," 
he  continued,  "  that  I  should  not  resign  before  February. 
.  .  .  This  leaves  you  in  charge  till  the  spring,  and 
gives  your  friends  time  to  urge  your  case."  Although 
Cameron  did  not  cease  his  solicitations  in  the  matter, 
he  was  finally  obliged  to  cut  off  all  further  hope  of  the 
position.  In  a  letter  of  February  4th  he  wrote : 

"I  have  again  been  to  Washington,  and  am  sorry  to 
say  that  it  seems  to  be  determined  that  Mr.  Clay  shall 
supplant  you.  Mr.  Seward  urges  an  early  appointment, 
and  the  President  excuses  himself  by  falling  back  on  his 
promise  to  Clay  when  he  did  not  expect  me  to  resign  the 
post.  He  admits  your  ability  and  worth,  and  seems  to 
regret  his  promise." 

The  middle  of  March  Mr.  Clay  was  nominated  as 
Cameron's  successor,  but  his  confirmation  by  the  Senate 
was  only  pushed  through  at  the  urgent  request  of  the 
President  and  Mr.  Seward,  according  to  the  information 
conveyed  to  Mr.  Cameron  by  a  Senator.  The  latter 
told  him  "  Mr.  Seward  spent  more  than  an  hour  urging 
it  upon  me ;  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  vote  against  him.  The 
ayes  and  noes  were  ordered  and  he  was  confirmed  with 
13  noes." 


138  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

When  it  became  known  that  the  former  Minister 
would  return  the  general  regret  that  my  husband  was  not 
to  receive  the  post  manifested  itself  in  open  displeasure 
in  the  highest  circles.  The  very  next  evening,  at  a 
soiree  given  by  Prince  Gortchacow,  one  of  the  Masters 
of  Ceremony  came  up  to  Taylor  with  an  exclamation  of 
the  greatest  indignation.  "  Quel  dommage  pour  la 
societt"  *  said  the  French  Ambassador.  "  It's  a  shame," 
added  the  Duchess  of  Montebello,  while  others  made 
remarks  in  the  same  tenor.  We,  on  the  other  hand, 
were  not  inconsolable.  We  had  been  longing  for  home; 
and  although  the  position  of  Minister  would  be  one  of 
honour,  and  we  had  begun  to  make  friends  in  the  society 
among  which  we  moved,  yet  the  constraint  and  the 
careful  observance  of  empty  formalities  that  etiquette 
forced  upon  us  had  already  become  a  wearisome  burden. 
To  return  to  our  accustomed  sphere,  in  which  we  could 
move  freely  and  live  for  our  dearest  interests — this  was 
a  prospect  that  could  only  please  us.  And  still  it  seemed 
as  if  this  consummation,  as  far  as  my  husband  was  con 
cerned,  lay  in  the  future.  Not  only  was  he  obliged  to 
remain  until  the  arrival  of  the  Minister,  while  I  avoided 
this  by  going  with  our  little  daughter  to  my  parents,  but 
a  project  that  Mr.  Cameron  had  previously  broached 
prevented  his  return  home  for  the  present.  A  letter 
from  Mr.  Cameron,  received  in  the  beginning  of  May,  ran 
thus: 

"LocHiEL,f  April  20,   1863. 

"Dear  Taylor:  I  was  at  Washington  last  week,  and  had 
a  very  plain  talk  with  the  President  and  Mr.  Seward 

*  "What  a  pity  for  society." 

t  Cameron's  country  place,  near  Harrisburg. 


THE   ST.  PETERSBURG  EPISODE          139 

about  the  appointment  of  my  successor  to  Russia — 
which  terminated  in  your  benefit.  Your  letter  enabled 
me  to  say  positively  that  you  would  not  remain  in  the 
Legation.*  I  spoke  again  of  Persia.  The  Secretary 
said  a  mission  had  been  created  some  years  ago,  but  no 
appropriation  had  been  made.  The  friendship  of  Russia 
and  the  unfriendliness  of  England  were  freely  spoken 
of — then  the  position  of  Persia  on  the  map — near  to 
Russia,  desired  probably  by  her — bordering  on  India  and 
therefore  an  object  of  interest  to  England,  was  looked  at, 
and  Seward  and  the  President  soon  came  to  the  con 
clusion  that  an  American  Minister  would  be  an  object 
of  interest  there.  To  my  mind  it  was  plain  that  the 
thought  had  wisdom  in  it — and  besides  I  was  glad  to 
urge  it  as  a  payment,  in  part,  of  our  gratitude  to  Russia — 
for  I  think  governments,  as  well  as  individuals,  should 
be  grateful.  The  Secretary  said  he  had  been  thinking  of 
this  for  some  time — but  the  trouble  had  been  to  get  the 
man.  A  little  more  conversation  convinced  him  that  you 
were  the  very  man.  The  President  encouraged  it ;  indeed, 
seemed  to  light  on  you  at  once — and  to  be  glad  of  the 
opportunity  to  convince  me  of  the  respect  and  confidence 
he  entertains  for  you.  So  I  was  commissioned  to  write 
to  you — and  to  beg  that  you  will  remain  with  Mr.  Clay 
till  your  successor  arrives.  He  will  bring  out  your 
instructions  for  Persia  and  you  will  be  paid  out  of  some 
fund  in  the  State  Department.  This  is  to  be  entirely  kept 
to  yourself.  I  have  promised  to  mention  it  only  to  you. 
You  will  probably  see  the  propriety  of  communicating  it 
to  Prince  Gortchacow — but  if  so,  under  the  seal  of  con 
fidence,  and  it  should  not  even  extend  to  Mr.  Clay." 

As  Taylor  had  kept  a  like  plan  in  mind  for  some  years 
past,  to  travel  in  the  then  almost  unknown  regions  of 
Central  Asia,  nothing  could  have  pleased  him  more  than 

*As  Secretary. 


1 40  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

this  prospect.  A  diplomatic  mission  to  Persia  would 
enable  him  not  only  to  render  service  to  his  country,  but 
at  the  same  time  to  find  the  means  and  the  material  for 
a  work  that  should  embody  the  final  results  of  his  knowl 
edge  of  human  nature,  accumulated  in  so  many  different 
lands  and  form,  as  it  were,  a  cosmos  of  mankind.  In 
all  his  descriptions  of  travel  his  greatest  interest  centred 
in  the  people  whom  he  encountered.  A  quality  in  his 
nature  that  led  men  to  confide  in  him,  helped  him  to 
an  insight  into  human  nature  and  its  secrets  such  as  is 
vouchsafed  to  few.  In  his  poem,  "The  Palm  and  the 
Pine,"  he  referred  to  this  characteristic,  as  he  had  himself 
in  mind  when  he  wrote  the  verses : 

"So,   with  untaught,   instinctive  art, 
He  read  the  myriad-natured  heart. 

He  met  the  men  of  many  a  land; 
They  gave  their  souls  into  his  hand." 

But  all  these  plans  for  the  future  came  to  naught. 
His  successor  arrived — and  brought  nothing  for  him. 
He  waited  months  in  Germany  for  instructions  from  the 
Government,  but  received  no  word  of  any  kind.  At 
last,  grown  weary  of  waiting,  he  left  Europe,  sailed  home, 
and  went  to  Washington.  The  President  was  very  much 
surprised  to  see  him,  as  he  supposed  him  to  have  gone 
to  Persia  long  ago.  When  Mr.  Seward  was  asked  for  an 
explanation  of  this  matter,  he  was  not  able  to  give  any 
information,  and  it  finally  seemed  evident  that  he  had 
let  the  affair  drop  intentionally. 

After  this  digression  I  revert  to  St.  Petersburg,  where 
Taylor  was  expecting  the  arrival  of  the  Minister.  The 


THE   ST.  PETERSBURG  EPISODE          141 

latter  came  on  April  3oth,  and  my  husband  wrote  to  me 
on  May  6th: 

"Clay  will  be  received  by  the  Emperor  to-morrow 
(Thursday)  at  i  o'clock,  at  which  time  my  rule  and 
responsibility  terminate.  .  « 

" .  .  .  I  dined  with  Gortchacow  on  Monday  night. 
It  was  a  diplomatic  affair — everybody  there.  Russia 
sat  between  France  and  England,  and  all  three  were  as 
jolly  together  as  if  there  was  no  such  thing  as  Poland. 
.  The  Prince  was  exceedingly  friendly  to  me, 
spoke  of  my  poem  to  the  Russian  officials,  and  said  the 
Emperor  keeps  fast  hold  of  it.  .  .  .  I  have  written 
nothing  on  my  new  poem  *  for  a  week  past — no  time. 
I  shall  be  tolerably  busy  from  this  time  on,  as  so  many 
little  things  crowd  together  in  the  last  days.  I  begin  to 
feel  the  pressure  of  them  now,  and  shall  be  glad  when 
I  am  once  more  the  other  side  of  Eydtkuhnen.f  I  shall 
let  you  know  in  a  week  about  the  time  I  expect  to  reach 
Berlin ;  but  I  presume  that  it  will  be  time  enough  for  you 
to  join  me  after  I  get  there." 

Again  he  wrote,  May  i5th: 

"  I  had  an  interview  to-day  with  Gortchacow,  who  was 
exceedingly  cordial.  The  Persian  matter  seemed  to 
please  him,  and  he  promised  me  the  full  assistance  of  the 
Russian  Government,  including  that  of  the  Grand  Duke 

Michael.  {  C and  I  have  just  come  from 

E 's,  who  send  you  their  love.    The  dinner  was  better 

than  usual.  Last  night  I  took  tea  at  Locock's — Napiers 
were  there,  and  my  poems  §  received  much  praise.  .  .  . 
To-day  I  took  leave  of  the  Armfeldts:  the  Count  was 

*  "The  Picture  of  St.  John." 
fThe  frontier  town. 
J  The  Governor  of  the  Caucasus. 
§  "The  Poet's  Journal." 


142  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

very  tender,  and  said  that  the  collective  society  of  St. 
Petersburg  is  very  sorry  to  lose  us.  Some  of  the  other 
Ministers  have  called  to  say  good-bye  to  me.  To-day 
the  Marquis  Pepoli,  excessively  cordial.  Much  of  this  is 
conventional,  but  there  may  be  a  little  good  feeling  at  the 
bottom  of  it.  I  understand  that  Ivan  has  been  saying 
around  that  we  kept  the  only  akuratni  dom  (properly 
managed  household)  which  the  Legation  ever  knew. 
He  hangs  around  me  and  looks  after  my  wants,  as  if  he 
would  rather  wait  on  me  than  on  his  new  master." 

After  a  few  days  at  Gotha  Taylor  again  set  out,  to 
see  the  Bohmerwald,  where  he  hoped  to  find  a  back 
ground  for  his  long  poem,  "The  Picture  of  St.  John," 
that  had  occupied  his  mind  much  of  late,  after  a  lapse 
of  almost  a  decade  since  its  inception.  He  wrote  to  me 
from  Amberg,  in  the  upper  Palatinate : 

"  I  reached  here  last  night  at  seven  o'clock,  and  could 
have  gone  on  to  Cham  by  the  night  train,  two  hours 
later;  but  the  scenery  was  so  very  beautiful  that  I  did 
not  wish  to  lose  it  in  the  darkness.  .  .  .  I  shall 
reach  Cham  about  noon  to-day,  and  go  this  afternoon 
(probably  with  an  einspdnner)  as  far  as  Kotzting,  in  the 
midst  of  the  Bohmer,  at  the  foot  of  the  Great  Arberberg 
.  .  .  came  from  Nuremberg  in  a  very  slow  freight  train, 
which  gave  me  a  good  chance  of  seeing  the  country.  .  .  . 
The  scenery  is  charming  thus  far — wild,  broken,  rocky 
valleys,  and  an  astonishing  luxuriance  of  vegetation." 

In  Kotzingen  my  husband  found  what  he  had  been 
seeking — the  mountain  valley  that  was  to  be  the  home 
of  his  hero,  with 

"Arber's  head  unshorn"* 
looming  above. 

*"The  Picture  of  St.  John,"  Book  I. 


THE   ST.  PETERSBURG  EPISODE          143 

After  his  return  we  accepted  the  invitation  of  the 
reigning  Duke  Ernest  II.  to  the  beautiful  Castle  Callen- 
berg,  near  Coburg,  and  spent  two  most  enjoyable  days 
with  the  ducal  couple,  in  absolute  privacy,  without  the 
intervention  of  Court  Marshal  or  Lady-in-waiting.  In 
the  evening,  after  dinner,  we  adjourned  to  the  lofty  and 
spacious  terrace  of  the  castle.  The  Duchess,  embroider 
ing  by  the  light  of  a  lamp,  wished  me  to  sit  beside  her; 
the  gentlemen  stood  around  and  smoked — the  Duke  used 
a  long  German  pipe,  and  a  lackey  stood  at  his  elbow 
ready  to  relight  it  as  often  as  it  went  out  during  the 
lively  flow  of  talk.  Tea  was  served  and  all  conversed 
without  ceremony.  The  princely  couple  related  inter 
esting  incidents  of  their  African  tour,  from  which  they 
had  recently  returned;  the  Duke  told  us  how  a  troop  of 
monkeys  had  attacked  him  and  his  hunting  party  in  a 
mountain  pass  in  Abyssinia,  hurling  stones,  fruit,  branches 
and  other  missiles  upon  them  from  above.  Somewhat 
later  the  Duchess  broached  the  subject  of  the  different 
courts,  and  recounted  a  visit  in  Weimar,  where  a  certain 
room  in  the  castle  was  reserved  exclusively  for  persons  of 
princely  birth  and  such  others  as  bore  the  rank  of  "  Ex- 
cellenz."  In  a  spirit  of  mischief  she  had  sent  her  lady-in- 
waiting,  who  was  ignorant  of  this  fact — "  You  know  her," 
she  added  in  an  aside  to  me — into  the  sacred  precincts. 
"Go  into  that  room  and  look  at  the  beautiful  pictures," 
she  had  said,  and  then  had  watched  with  secret  merriment 
the  indignant  countenances  that  were  turned  upon  the 
unconscious  and  innocent  offender. 

Thus  the  hours  passed  pleasantly;  the  night  was  mild, 
the  stars  sparkled  above,  and  the  fountain  made  faint 
music  with  its  tinkling  waters.  Next  morning  we 


i44  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

breakfasted  with  the  Duke  and  Duchess,  and  then  took 
our  departure  with  the  sensation  of  having  enriched  our 
memories  by  a  delightful  experience. 

We  had  no  premonition  of  the  sad  news  awaiting  us  on 
our  return  to  Gotha.  My  youngest  brother-in-law, 
Frederick  Taylor,  had  been  killed  on  the  second  day  of 
the  battle  at  Gettysburg  by  a  bullet  through  the  heart. 
He  had  been  commissioned  Major  in  September  of  the 
previous  year,  and  in  December  was  promoted  to  the 
rank  of  Colonel  of  the  Buck  tails.  Arriving  on  the 
battlefield  after  a  forced  march,  he  fell  at  the  head  of 
his  regiment.  The  news  of  his  death  caused  us  to  hasten 
our  return,  and  we  arrived  in  New  York  early  in  Sep 
tember. 


CHAPTER  IX 
THREE  PROLIFIC  YEARS 

A  Swiss  gentleman  of  Lausanne,  Monsieur  Carey,  had 
accompanied  us  on  our  homeward  voyage  with  the 
intention  of  claiming  Bayard  Taylor's  elder  sister  for  his 
wife,  and  their  marriage  was  quietly  celebrated  soon 
afterward.  This  event,  and  our  return,  were  the  occasion 
for  an  almost  uninterrupted  stream  of  guests  at  "  Cedar- 
croft,"  who  gave  its  mistress  much  to  look  after  until 
the  departure  of  the  newly  wedded  couple  at  the  end 
of  October,  when  comparative  quiet  settled  down  upon 
us.  My  husband  and  part  of  the  family  accompanied 
the  travellers  to  the  steamer.  Taylor  wrote  to  me  from 
New  York:  "No  accident  occurred  except  that  a  little 
boy  on  board  the  steamer  at  Amboy  got  partly  under 
Emma's  hoops.  She  thought  it  was  a  tin  bucket,  gave  a 
kick  and  knocked  the  child  flat  on  the  deck.  He  fell  on  his 
nose,  and  yelled  awfully."  Another  letter,  dated  November 
2Qth,  "  In  the  library  of  J.  L.  G.,"  *  read  as  follows  : 

"I  snatch  a  moment  this  morning  to  say  that  I  am 
getting  on  very  well.  My  lectures  at  Cohoes  and  Po'- 
keepsie  were  attended  by  very  large  audiences  and  were 
entirely  successful.  Yesterday  I  came  here,  and  was 
engaged  all  day  with  Putnam  in  arranging  for  a  wider 
sale  of  'Hannah.'  .  .  .  The  notices  of  the  book  are 

*  James  Lorimer  Graham,  and  his  wife  Josephine,  were  numbered 
among  oui  most  intimate  New  York  friends. 

145 


146  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

capital — better  than  I  could  have  expected.     They  all 
speak  of  the  truth  of  the  characters — and  all  say  that  it 


is  a  success." 


Later  he  wrote  me  the  following: 

"I  have  found  quarters  for  us.  A  parlor  and  two 
bedrooms  with  board  and  two  grate  fires,  gas,  etc.  $45. 
per  week.  My  friends  say  it  is  not  dear.  The  situation 
is  just  what  we  want.  I  have  said  that  we  shall  come 
about  New  Years.  Are  you  not  glad?  So,  don't  let  the 
household  troubles  worry  you  too  much,  for  you'll  soon 
have  a  good  rest." 

On  December  nth  a  son,  Lorimer,  was  born  to  the 
Stoddards.  He  inherited  the  artistic  temperament  of 
his  parents,  but  was  fated  to  sink  into  his  grave  at  the 
beginning  of  the  new  century,  just  as  he  was  reaping  the 
golden  first  fruits  of  his  dramatic  work,  while  his  aged 
father  and  mother  were  left  to  mourn.  In  those  days 
immediately  after  his  birth  Mrs.  Stoddard  declared  that 
she  was  hoping  for  the  ravens  of  the  Prophet  Elijah  to 
come  and  feed  the  child ;  for  the  wedded  poets  were  not  in 
easy  circumstances  at  this  time,  and  the  Civil  War  had 
made  living  most  expensive. 

At  the  New  Year  we  moved  to  New  York  for  three 
months.  During  this  time  poetry  was  forced  to  yield 
to  prose,  since  the  plan  for  another  novel,  "John  God 
frey's  Fortunes,"  was  clamouring  for  visible  form. 
Meanwhile  our  old  friends  gathered  around  us,  and  a 
lively  social  intercourse  claimed  much  of  our  time. 
Each  Sunday  evening  we  saw  a  small  select  circle  of 
friends  congregate  in  our  rooms.  The  Stoddards,  Sted- 


THREE   PROLIFIC  YEARS  147 

mans,  McEntees,  Aldrich,  Launt  Thompson,  the  Grahams 
were  habitues,  to  whom  were  often  added  the  two  Cranches, 
Fitz-Hugh  Ludlow  and  wife,  Sanford  Gifford,  and  some 
times  Edwin  Booth  and  others.  These  evenings  were 
enlivened  by  the  "Diversions,"  which  in  later  years 
Bayard  Taylor  published  in  amplified  form  in  the  "  Echo 
Club,"  and  which  afforded  an  entertainment  sparkling 
with  wit  and  humour.  This  amusement  was  the  con 
tinuation  of  a  jeu  $  esprit  that  originated  in  the  middle 
of  the  fifties,  when  the  trio  of  poets,  Stoddard,  Taylor 
and  Fitz- James  O'Brien,  vied  in  the  exuberance  of  their 
imagination  with  each  other  in  the  production  of  short 
comic  poems  whenever  they  met  in  Stoddard's  quarters. 

These  poetic  gymnastics  supplemented  by  parodies  of 
noted  poets  were  a  never-failing  source  of  the  most 
delightful  entertainment.  As  soon  as  one  of  our  sons  of 
the  Muses  had  finished  his  inspiration  of  the  moment,  he 
read  it  aloud  amid  the  laughing  applause  of  his  hearers, 
who  were  never  at  fault  in  guessing  the  poet  he  had 
parodied,  so  unmistakable  was  the  imitation  of  the 
principal  characteristics  of  his  poetic  expression. 

Of  the  many  happy  and  witty  impromptus,  which  thus 
mimicked  the  voices  of  the  poets,  I  am  tempted  to  quote 
an  echo  of  Longfellow,  a  skit  of  my  husband's,  which 
proved  such  a  close  parody  that  he  never  gave  it  out  of 
his  hands  during  the  lifetime  of  his  revered  friend,  the  poet. 

"THE  ENCLOSURE  OF  THE  SWINE 

"O'er    the    fragile    rampart    leaning, 

Which  enclosed  the  herd  of  swine, 
Thoughts  of  vast  and  wondrous  meaning 
Flitted  through  this  brain  of  mine. 


148  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

"  There  the  mingling  creatures  grunted, 

Gathered  at  their  daily  meal; 
Some  were  old,  with  tushes  blunted, 
Some  had  hardly  learned  to  squeal. 

"  Some,  with  stomachs  swelled  and  sated 

Plethoric  and  contented  lay; 
Some,  with  haste  exaggerated 
Rushed  to  drain  their  swill  away. 

"One,  intent  his  thirst  to  smother, 

Placed  his  foot  within  the  trough; 
Jostled  one  his  weaker  brother, 
Trod  him  down  or  pushed  him  off. 

"In  the  world's  immense  arena, 

In  the  rails  inclosing  Life, 
Man  towards  man  is  even  meaner, 
And  more  gluttonous  in  his  strife. 

"  Gorged  and  sated  with  their  plunder 

Some  lie  down  to  lives  obese, 
While  the  weak  look  on  and  wonder, 
And  the  timid  cry  for  peace. 

"  Some  but  catch  in  petty  driblets, 

Food  to  soothe  the  hungry  sense; 
Others  swell  their  fattened  giblets 
At  their  brethren's  sad  expense. 

"Life,  alas!  is  such  enclosure, 
Men  are  but  a  taller  swine: 
'Tis  a  thought  which  gives  composure 
To  this  pensive  soul  of  mine." 


THREE  PROLIFIC  YEARS  149 

During  this  and  the  following  winters  we  kept  up  an 
agreeable  intercourse  with  the  artists,  whom  we  often 
visited  in  their  studios.  Art  was  young  then  in  America, 
but  among  its  pioneers  there  are  names  that  will  not  be 
forgotten.  McEntee,  who  looked  like  a  Van  Dyck, 
charmed  us  by  his  autumn  and  winter  landscapes  with 
their  elegiac  atmosphere.  In  the  studio  of  Gifford — 
whose  head  called  to  mind  a  Valasquez — we  basked  in  the 
glow  of  Venetian  sunsets.  Coleman  showed  us  his 
beautiful  picture  of  the  Alhambra;  Eastman  Johnson 
his  folk-songs  translated  into  colour;  Frederick  Church 
his  large  picture  of  Chimborazo — and  in  Kensett's 
atelier  we  turned  over  his  portfolios  of  poetical  sketches  of 
mountain  and  sea.  At  Launt  Thompson's — a  jolly  good 
fellow,  the  cast  of  whose  features,  pointed  beard,  and  full, 
curly  hair  always  put  us  in  mind  of  an  antique  faun — 
we  enjoyed  looking  at  his  excellent  portrait  busts, 
Bryant's  Homeric  head,  and  Booth,  whom  he  represented 
as  the  meditating  Hamlet.  In  McEntee's  homelike 
studio  his  wife  Gertrude  invited  us  to  appetising  lunch 
eons,  where  a  successful  potato  salad  graced  the  board, 
to  prove  to  me  that  she  had  made  good  use  of  my  recipe. 
In  those  days  the  opening  receptions  of  the  exhibitions 
at  the  Academy  of  Design  were  grand  social  affairs; 
invitations  were  extended  to  men  of  note,  with  their 
womankind,  and  as  New  York  was  not  so  large  then  as 
now,  everyone  knew  everyone  else  and  people  enjoyed 
themselves.  There  was  present  at  one  of  these  receptions 
a  well-known  clergyman,  who  was  said  to  be  so  convinced 
of  his  own  importance  that  he  waited  for  a  vacancy  in  the 
Trinity.  My  husband,  mistaking  this  gentleman  from 
the  shape  of  his  shoulders  for  Launt  Thompson,  slapped 


ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

him  roundly  on  the  back,  with  the  words,  "  How  are  you, 
old  fellow!"  The  horrified  face  that  met  his  eyes  as  the 
clergyman  turned  around  was  wont  to  excite  Taylor's 
hilarity  whenever  he  recalled  it. 

The  happy  and  animated  social  life  of  this  and  the 
following  winters,  although  interrupted  once  in  a  while 
by  lecture  engagements,  did  not  keep  my  husband  from 
ever-renewed  literary  activity.  Besides  working  on  his 
new  novel,  "The  Picture  of  St.  John"  again  claimed  the 
exercise  of  his  poetic  imagination.  Among  other  smaller 
poems  he  conceived  and  wrote  the  one  entitled  "  Harpo- 
crates,"  which  always  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  milestone  in 
the  spiritual  evolution  of  my  poet,  for  the  time  had  come 
when  his  pleasure  in  the  enjoyment  of  life,  pure  and 
simple,  that,  conjointly  with  his  thirst  for  knowledge,  had 
driven  him  forth  into  the  world,  was  giving  place  in  his 
mind  to  a  higher  intellectual  aspiration.  He  found  a 
means  of  advance  on  this  new  pathway  in  his  great  work, 
the  translation  of  "Faust"  into  English,  which  he  now 
took  up  in  earnest.  While  he  had  long  cherished  this 
plan,  he  had  hitherto  translated  only  single  songs,  as 

"Castles,   with  lofty 
Ramparts  and  towers," 

and  "Margaret  at  the  Spinning  Wheel";  but  now  he 
could  no  longer  withstand  its  fascination.  "John  God 
frey"  was  finished,  and  "Faust"  would  not  be  banished. 
The  creative  joy  that  then  took  possession  of  him  is  best 
portrayed  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Stoddard,  which  I  am 
fortunate  in  possessing.  We  had  just  returned  from  a 
visit  of  several  days  to  the  Stoddards  at  Buzzard's 
Bay,  when  Taylor  wrote : 


THREE   PROLIFIC  YEARS  151 

"  CEDARCROFT,    Sept.    6,    1864. 

"Tuesday. 
"Dear  Lizzie: 

"  We  reached  home  just  in  time.  This  is  the  third  day 
of  the  dark,  delightful,  driving  storm  which  followed  us, 
and  God  knows  how  the  earth  needed  its  present  soaking. 
Either  the  sea  air  or  the  gritty  whetstone  of  your  and 
Dick's  society  has  put  a  keener  edge  on  my  brain,  for  in 
the  two  past  days  I  have  accomplished  wonders.  On 
Sunday  morning  I  felt  a  ravenous  hunger  for  some  diffi 
cult  intellectual  task,  and  took  up  the  archangelic  chorus 
in  the  prologue  to  Faust,  which  has  been  my  despair  for 
years.  In  two  hours  it  was  transmuted  into  English. 
Marie  was  in  ecstacies,  declaring  that  it  was  the  veritable 
perfect  original.  Then  I  took  the  wonderful  Easter 
choruses,  the  hymn  to  the  Virgin,  and  three  other  bits  of 
intricate,  almost  impossible  performances,  giving  measure 
for  measure,  line  for  line,  and  rhyme  for  rhyme. 
I  am  now  satisfied  that  I  can  produce  a  translation  of 
Faust  which  will  take  its  permanent  place  in  literature, 
to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  translations.  .  .  .  Prob 
ably  I  shall  not  do  much  more  this  fall.  Last  night 
I  took  up  'St.  John,'  and  its  flowing,  narrative  heroic 
ran  from  my  pen  like  oil,  after  those  hard  nuts  of 
Goethe.  .  .  . 

"  I  must  tell  you  again  what  a  perfect  enjoyment  those 
five  days  were  to  both  of  us.     .     .     .     Love  to  Dick. 
"Yours  equinoctially, 

"B.  T." 

Poetic  production  kept  pace  with  the  improvement  and 
adornment  of  our  country  home.  The  ground  was  en 
riched  and  cultivated,  the  orchards  were  enlarged,  a 
small  vineyard  was  laid  out,  and  a  protecting  wall  built 
along  the  north  side  of  the  vegetable  garden,  on  the 
southern  face  of  which  figs  and  pomegranates  were  to 
ripen  later.  A  stable  was  built  behind  the  house,  and  a 


i52  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

small  conservatory  added,  opening  directly  from  the 
library  in  which  my  husband  worked.  In  May  the 
wistaria  bloomed  enchantingly ;  its  countless  racemes  of 
pale  lilac  flowers  framed  the  great  window  of  the  pro 
jecting  southern  bay,  while  somewhat  later  the  scarlet 
clusters  of  the  trumpet-creeper  opened  their  flaming 
beaks  on  the  corner  pillars  of  the  verandas;  on  still  days 
the  humming  birds  with  iridescent  green  and  gold 
plumage  were  attracted  by  the  brilliant  colour,  and,  poised 
in  midair  with  wings  a-whirr,  dipped  their  long,  sharp 
bills  into  the  trumpet-shaped  flowers,  sipping  their  honey. 
In  the  hot  summer  evenings  we  wrould  sit  upon  the  terrace 
before  the  house,  welcoming  every  passing  breath  of  air, 
and  to  offset  the  short  twilight  of  these  latitudes  the  after 
glow  of  an  orange  and  vermilion  sunset  lit  up  the  western 
sky  with  gorgeous  tints,  and  the  silver  light  of  the  crescent 
moon,  paired  with  the  evening  star,  shed  its  mild  radiance 
over  the  dark  grey  vault  of  night.  Or  the  great  blood-red 
ball  of  the  harvest  moon  rose  slowly  above  our  grove  of 
"dark  Dodonian  oak  trees,"  *  and  the  quiet  was  broken 
only  by  the  voices  of  myriad  katydids.  Those  were 
times  when  we  enjoyed  the  freedom  and  the  simple 
pleasures  of  country  life  to  the  utmost,  for  we  were  young 
still,  and  hopeful,  and  thought  but  little  of  the  troubles 
and  obstacles  that  sometimes  opposed  us.  For  my  hus 
band,  particularly,  there  were  no  difficulties  that  he  did 
not  hope  to  overcome ;  he  had  heretofore  been  wonderfully 
successful  in  everything  he  had  undertaken,  and  why 
should  he  not  continue  to  be  so?  This  confidence  in 
fected  me  and  rendered  me  also  blind  to  the  practical  side 
of  many  things.  Thus  we  made  mistakes  in  the  arrange- 
*  Epilogue  to  the  "Home  Pastorals." 


From  a  painting  by  Bayard  Taylor 


'CEDARCROFT" 


From  a  painiing  by  Bayard  Taylor 

'CEDARCROFT"  AND  ITS  LAWN 


THREE   PROLIFIC  YEARS  153 

ment  of  our  life  that  we  were  afterward  obliged  to  atone 
for,  as  the  way  of  the  world  demands.  And  yet,  what 
mattered  it  in  the  end!  If  men  and  women  can  be 
happy  we  certainly  were. 

Meanwhile  the  fortunes  of  war  had  turned  more  and 
more  toward  the  side  of  the  North,  so  that  I  was  able  to 
write  to  my  mother  in  the  middle  of  May: 

11  We  have  official  news  that  Grant  is  advancing  daily  on 
Richmond,  that  Butler  is  threatening  the  city  from  the 
south,  and  that  Sheridan's  cavalry  has  cut  off  the  railway 
communication  of  the  rebels.  At  the  same  time,  battles 
are  raging  in  Georgia,  which  result  in  our  favor. 
General  Grant  is  just  the  commander  whom  we  need. 
After  his  first  great  battle,  when  he  ordered  the  troops  to 
advance  instead  of  retreating,  as  heretofore,  the  army, 
accustomed  to  the  latter  manoeuvre,  was  so  overjoyed  that 
the  men  burst  into  cheers.  When  the  battle  had  lasted 
several  days,  Lee  sent  an  officer  with  a  flag  of  truce  to 
Grant,  to  ask  for  an  armistice  of  forty-eight  hours  to 
bury  his  dead.  The  former  commander  of  the  army 
had  granted  a  like  request  under  similar  circumstances, 
but  instead  of  burying  their  dead,  the  enemy  had  de 
camped.  Therefore  Grant's  answer  was,  '  I  have  no  time 
to  bury  my  own  dead;  tell  your  General  that  I  shall  ad 
vance'  immediately! '  This  news  fills  us  with  great  hope." 

In  spite  of  the  steadily  increasing  price  of  everything 
pertaining  to  the  necessaries  of  life,  in  consequence  of 
the  long-continued  war,  commerce  and  manufacture  had 
picked  up  wonderfully  of  late.  We  also  reaped  the  ad 
vantage  of  this.  The  Tribune  paid  good  dividends  again, 
and  the  books  yielded  an  ample  income.  This  enabled 
us  to  take  winter  quarters  in  New  York,  in  the  central 
part  of  the  city,  whither  we  repaired  shortly  after  New 


i54  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

Year,  1865.  There  on  January  nth  we  celebrated  my 
husband's  fortieth  birthday  with  a  jolly  party.  Without 
his  knowledge,  I  invited  a  number  of  good  friends  to 
supper,  and  the  surprise  thus  prepared  for  him  was 
entirely  successful.  In  the  best  of  spirits  we  sat  down 
to  a  table  covered  with  all  sorts  of  good  and  delectable 
dishes,  but  the  real  fun  did  not  begin  until  the  dessert 
was  put  on  the  table.  R.  H.  Stoddard  introduced  him 
self  as  Secretary  of  an  imaginary  Committee  for  the 
Celebration,  and  read  a  paper  in  this  character,  as  well 
as  a  number  of  letters  expressing  regrets  for  inability  to 
accept  the  invitation,  from  several  guests  who  were 
nevertheless  present.  This  was  followed  by  the  presenta 
tion  of  the  absurdest  gifts  that  each  could  invent,  ac 
companied  by  the  recital  of  witty  poems  composed  and 
memorised  for  the  occasion. 

My  husband  was  so  touched  by  all  the  proofs  of 
friendship  he  received  in  the  course  of  the  evening  that 
he,  on  the  spot,  improvised  some  verses  to  express  his 
feelings.  As  he  jotted  them  down  at  the  time,  I  am 
able  to  quote  them: 

"Should  he  be  glad,  above  whose  head 
The   fourth   completed   decade's   fled? 
Or  grieve,  that  Time  begins  to  score 
For  youthful  three,  the  ripened  four? 
Who  shall  decide  which  season's  best — 
Youth,  with  its  warm,  believing  breast, 
Its  misty  glimpse  of  formless  Art, 
Its  lushy  green  of  brain  and  heart, 
So  quick  to  trust,  so  slow  to  doubt, 
So  kindly  loath  at  finding  out — 
Or  that  mysterious  Middle-age 
Whose  term  no  astronomic  sage 


THREE  PROLIFIC  YEARS  155 

Can  fix,  for  while  the  young  declare 
It  ne'er  begins,  the  old  ones  swear 
It  never  ends — but  this  is  true, 
Your  friends  make  known  the  fact  to  you. 
•  •••••• 

And  friends  beloved,  whom  here  I  see 

Still  lend  their  fresher  youth  to  me — 

Still  make  me  feel,  while  Time  departs, 

The  grace  that  dwells  in  equal  hearts. 

Be  to  me  ever  as  to-night 

And  I  shall  know  no  setting  light 

Of  love,  and  joy  in  all  things  fair, 

And  light  as  thirty,  forty  wear. 

Yea,  though  as  bald  my  head  should  grow 

As  Lorry  Graham's,  or  white  as  snow, 

Like  Stoddard's  pow,  or  tho'  my  face 

Stedman's  imposing  mien  should  grace, 

Or  Mac  Entee's,  severe  and  grand, 

Or  Barry  of  the  outstretched  hand, 

Or  though  I  speak  with  Delphic  breath 

Like  the  august  Elizabeth, 

Or  stateliness  with  grace  combine 

Like  Gertrude,  Music's  nymph  divine, 

Or  look  on  life  with  eyes  serene 

Like   thee,    true-hearted  Josephine — 

Still  shall  I  keep  my  youth  intact, 

In  feeling,  thought,  and  speech  and  act, 

And  fast  though  still  the  years  intrude, 

I'll  meet  them  now  with  Forty tude." 

This  celebration  ushered  in  a  season  of  agreeable  social 
gatherings,  interrupted  at  intervals  by  lectures  which 
Taylor  was  obliged  to  deliver  in  other  cities.  With  the 
approach  of  spring,  however,  we  felt  drawn  again  to 
"Cedarcroft."  The  country  was  already  beginning  to 
blossom  and  put  forth  green  leaves  when  we  returned 


156  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

home.  Soon  afterward,  we  celebrated  the  marriage  of 
my  husband's  youngest  sister,  who  was  also  about  to 
leave  the  old  home.  Her  fiance,  Charles  Lamborn,  a 
very  handsome  young  man  of  Quaker  parentage,  had 
passed  through  the  campaigns  in  the  South  in  safety,  and 
had  been  retired  from  the  army  with  the  honourary  title 
of  Colonel.  He  now  held  an  appointment  in  a  railroad 
office,  which  enabled  him  to  support  a  family.  He  after 
ward  rose  step  by  step  to  an  important  position. 

At  last  peace  was  proclaimed  throughout  the  land — 
followed  almost  immediately  by  the  assassination  of 
President  Lincoln.  Let  me  describe  these  events  in  the 
words  that  I  used  in  a  letter  to  my  mother  in  the  middle 
of  April  : 

"How  much  has  happened  in  these  last  weeks!  First 
victory  after  victory,  waving  banners  and  triumphant 
jubilation  throughout  the  whole  wide  continent;  then 
our  beautiful  family  celebration;  and  now  the  dreadful 
murderous  deed  in  Washington!  When  we  arrived  in 
Philadelphia  on  April  3d,  on  our  way  hither  from  New 
York,  we  soon  noticed  that  something  had  happened. 
The  old  bell  of  the  City  Hall  was  ringing,  and  crowds  were 
collecting.  'It  must  be  a  fire,'  said  some  one  near  us. 
'It  can't  be  a  fire,'  I  said  to  my  husband,  'just  see  how 
pleased  the  people  look.'  Suddenly  a  four-horse  wagon 
came  thundering  along,  the  horses  decked  with  flags, 
and  a  man  in  shirt  sleeves  standing  upon  it,  waving  a 
flag  in  one  hand  and  his  cap  in  the  other,  and  shouting 
'hurrah!'  The  crowd  answered  with  cheers  and  shouts 
as  the  horses  galloped  past.  Other  wagons  followed,  all 
hastily  decorated,  till  they  became  a  real  triumphal  pro 
cession.  We  had  difficulty  in  getting  through  the  con 
stantly  increasing  crowd,  and  were  hardly  able  to  restrain 
our  joy  over  the  taking  of  Richmond — for  this  was  the 


THREE  PROLIFIC  YEARS  157 

cause  of  rejoicing.  The  crowd  was  a  motley  throng 
of  elegantly  dressed  ladies  and  gentlemen  shoulder  to 
shoulder  with  labourers  and  mechanics;  strangers  fell 
upon  each  other's  neck,  all  faces  reflected  a  common  joy. 
A  week  later  came  the  second  grand  tidings  of  victory, 
Lee's  surrender  of  the  Southern  army.  The  Kennett 
people  bought  powder  enough  for  one  hundred  cannon 
shots.  After  the  ninetieth,  the  cannon  was  hauled  to  the 
lawn  in  front  of  our  house,  to  give  us  the  benefit  of  the 
last  salvos.  As  night  was  falling,  the  people  came  with 
torches,  and  as  soon  as  we  saw  what  they  intended  to 
do,  we  collected  our  supply  of  candles,  put  them  quickly 
into  the  necks  of  empty  bottles,  and  illuminated  the  tower 
from  top  to  bottom,  as  well  as  the  front  of  the  house. 
Then  we  lighted  a  great  bonfire  of  old  barrels  and  chips, 
and  the  cannon  'belched  its  thunder.'  The  farm 
houses  far  and  near  were  illuminated;  whoever  had  bells 
rang  them ;  and  those  who  had  none  hammered  on  gongs 
or  tin  pans.  There  was  joy  everywhere,  for  we  knew 
that  now  there  would  be  peace. 

"  The  dreadful  news  of  the  assassination  of  the  President 
reached  Taylor  and  myself  when  we  were  on  our  way  to 
Philadelphia.  When  the  train  stopped  at  a  station,  a 
sudden  awe-struck  whisper  went  from  one  seat  of  the  car 
to  another :  *  Lincoln  is  murdered. '  At  first  we  could 
not  believe  it — it  was  too  dreadful.  But  when  we  came 
into  Philadelphia,  and  saw  the  flags  everywhere  at  half 
mast,  we  knew  that  he  was  dead." 

The  summer  brought  us  welcome  guests,  the  Stedmans, 
McEntees,  Boker  and  other  city  friends  in  succession. 
George  Boker,  a  man  used  to  the  luxuries  of  life,  seemed 
satisfied  with  the  fame  that  his  earlier  dramatic  works, 
his  sonnets  and  patriotic  lyrics  at  the  beginning  of  the 
war  had  earned  for  him.  After  his  first  youthful  fire  had 
cooled,  he  let  his  poetic  wings  droop  more  and  more.  But 


158  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

he  remained  an  attractive  man,  an  agreeable,  refined 
companion,  and  a  very  dear  and  intimate  friend  of  my 
husband.  A  visit  of  several  days  from  him  never  failed 
to  leave  a  salutary  impression  upon  Bayard  Taylor,  to  be 
followed  by  renewed  poetic  inspiration.  The  visit  of  the 
Stedmans,  who  brought  their  elder  boy  with  them,  was 
an  event  in  our  country  life.  Our  friends  came  in  the 
first  days  of  June.  The  sky  was  a  deep  blue,  and  "  Cedar- 
croft  ' '  was  never  more  entrancing. 

" .     .     .     tulip  trees  and  smooth  magnolias  hung 
A  million  leaves  between  us  and  the  blue,"  * 

and  the  gentle  breeze  from  the  wood  was  fragrant  with 

" .     .     .     ambrosial  musk 
Of  wild  grape  blossoms."  f 

This  exquisite  weather  tempted  us  to  go  forth  and 
spend  the  day  beside  the  Brandywine  Creek,  where  it 
winds  its  gentle  course  between  woods  and  meadows 
six  miles  distant.  We  started  in  the  morning,  and  took 
plenty  of  provisions  for  the  day.  No  cloudlet  flecked 
the  pure  azure  of  the  sky,  the  warm  air  was  laden  with 
the  aromatic  breath  of  blossoming  grasses,  flowering 
shrubs,  and  the  fresh  foliage  of  the  woods;  all  nature 
was  in  its  most  vivid  and  joyous  mood.  We  camped 
merrily  on  the  banks  of  the  little  stream,  at  a  place 
where  a  rich  green  meadow  stretches  away  for  some 
distance,  hemmed  in  on  one  side  by  a  thickly-wooded 
ridge,  on  the  other  by  a  grove  of  mighty  oaks.  Here 

*"The  Poet's  Journal." 

flbid. 


THREE  PROLIFIC  YEARS  159 

we  unpacked  the  hampers  and  enjoyed  ourselves. 
Stedman  and  Taylor  waded  barefoot  through  the 
cool  ripples  of  the  shallow  stream,  long  staffs  in  their 
hands,  while  Laura  Stedman  and  I,  with  the  children, 
were  weaving  wreaths  and  garlands  of  oak  leaves  and 
wildflowers — when  on  a  sudden  a  herd  of  upward  of  a 
hundred  head  of  cattle  appeared  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
meadow,  apparently  attracted  by  our  presence.  Slowly 
they  approached,  and  drew  up  in  line  of  battle,  so  that 
we  began  to  question  if  it  might  not  be  best  to  seek 
safety  in  flight.  But  the  animals  also  seemed  to  be 
deliberating.  They  halted,  and  then  a  reconnoitring 
party  of  about  a  dozen  magnificent  steers,  fattened 
upon  the  richest  meadow  pasture,  slowly  advanced 
toward  us.  As  they  did  not  seem  to  have  any  hostile 
intentions,  we  quietly  allowed  them  to  come  up.  Taylor, 
following  the  sudden  merry  impulse  of  the  moment^ 
seized  one  of  our  wreaths  and  wound  it  around  the  horns 
of  the  largest  steer ;  then  he  grasped  a  branch  of  oak  and 
offered  another  to  Stedman.  The  latter  sprang  upon  the 
steer's  back,  while  Taylor  led  it  by  the  horns.  Mrs. 
Stedman,  I,  and  the  children  at  once  followed  in  single 
file,  and  our  negro  servant  headed  the  procession,  carry 
ing  the  pail  of  milk  punch.  Thus  we  marched  around  in 
happy  mood,  like  Arcadians  of  old,  bringing  an  oblation 
to  the  god  of  joy. 

The  victory  was  assured,  the  cattle  moved  peacefully 
away,  and  we  saw  them  no  more.  The  poetic  result  of 
this  beautiful  day  along  the  idyllic  Brandywine  is  em 
bodied  in  the  sonnets  published  respectively  in  E.  C. 
Stedman's  and  Bayard  Taylor's  collected  poems. 

I  call  to  mind  also  the  friendly  visits  exchanged  with 


160  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

the  family  of  Dr.  William  H.  Furness,  the  cultured  and 
highly  intellectual  Unitarian  clergyman,  who  lived  in 
Philadelphia,  but  spent  the  summer  at  the  country 
house  of  his  son,  Dr.  Horace  Furness,  "Lindenshade," 
between  the  latter  city  and  Kennett.  Our  friendship 
with  this  talented  family  gave  rise  to  an  interchange  of 
pleasant  poetical  fancies,  among  them  a  truly  German 
poem  by  my  husband,  which  I  refrain  from  quoting,  as 
the  charming  little  episode  has  been  published  else 
where.* 

But  our  guests  were  not  all  of  this  mental  calibre. 
Among  those  from  the  countryside,  many  were  dear  to 
us  because,  in  spite  of  a  lack  of  intellectual  culture, 
they  possessed  an  innate  culture  of  the  heart,  and  an 
open  eye  and  ear  for  the  interests  of  the  day.  Others 
afforded  us  secret  amusement  by  their  unconscious  in 
genuousness.  For  instance,  I  remember  a  dignified 
Quaker  matron,  to  whom  my  husband  was  explaining 
some  pictures  on  the  walls  of  our  sitting-room.  She 
paused  before  an  engraving.  "This  is  Raphael's  'For- 
narina,'"  said  Taylor.  "Ah,"  she  replied,  "is  she  a 
friend  of  thine?"  Another  guest,  who  sometimes  came 
early  in  the  day,  was  a  former  schoolmate  of  my  husband. 
He  had  a  certain  amount  of  knowledge  and  intelligence, 
but  entirely  lacked  the  social  ease  of  manner.  He  once 
remained  far  into  the  evening,  without  knowing  how  to 
take  leave.  At  last  there  was  nothing  left  to  do  but  to 
give  him  a  lighted  candle  and  consign  him  to  a  bed 
room  to  spend  the  night,  for  which  he  was  in  no  way 
prepared. 

*" American  Men  of  Letters":  "Bayard  Taylor,"  by  Albert  H. 
Smythe,  p.  130. 


THREE   PROLIFIC  YEARS  161 

While  guests  came  and  went,  and  the  cultivation  and 
improvement  of  our  property  consumed  both  time  and 
thought,  Bayard  Taylor  continued  to  write  his  "  Picture 
of  St.  John."  So  industrious  was  he  that  toward  the 
close  of  the  poem  he  once  wrote  sixteen  stanzas  at  one 
sitting,  a  feat  that  was  possible  only  because  his  creation 
had  long  since  assumed  definite  form  in  his  brain.  On 
September  ist  he  was  at  last  able  to  write  to  his  friend 
Stedman : 

"  I  have  finished  my  '  Picture  of  St.  John ! '  Soon  after 
writing  to  you  last,  I  found  that  the  leading  horse  of  my 
tandem  was  running  away  with  me,  so  I  cut  loose  from  the 
prose  animal  in  the  thills,  jumped  upon  Pegasus  just  as 
the  wings  were  growing  out  of  his  shoulders  and  flanks, 
and  off  we  went!"  * 

Hereupon  the  poet  let  his  finished  work  rest  until 
winter,  and  then  gave  it  another  final  and  se  /ere  revision 
before  sending  it  to  the  publishers. 

It  was  one  of  Bayard  Taylor's  idiosyncracies  that  after 
the  completion  of  a  poem,  to  which  he  had  devoted  his 
entire  strength,  he  continued  subject  for  some  time 
afterward  to  the  domination  of  his  finished  task.  In 
order  to  release  himself  from  the  strain,  he  was  obliged 
to  have  recourse  to  some  utterly  different  trend  of  thought, 
so  he  now  took  refuge  in  the  interrupted  task  of  his  novel, 
and  was  able  to  read  the  third  finished  chapter  to  me 
on  September  3d.  In  the  "Story  of  Kennett"  he  was 
treating  a  favourite  theme  of  his  imagination.  Even 
before  he  wrote  his  first  two  novels,  the  plot  of  this  one 
was  floating  through  his  mind,  but  he  postponed  its 

*"Life  and  Letters  of  Bayard  Taylor,"  p.  448. 


i62  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

execution  in  order  to  school  himself  in  "  Hannah  Thurs- 
ton"  and  "John  Godfrey,"  for  the  intenser  action  and 
more  imaginative  form  that  "  Kennett "  required.  In  this 
work  he  raised  a  monument,  as  it  were,  to  the  neighbour 
hood  of  his  birth.  Truth  and  fiction  are  woven  into  its 
tissue;  descriptions  of  the  idyllic  scenery  in  the  midst  of 
which  he  was  born,  delineations  of  typical  characters 
among  the  old  Quaker  families,  and  the  traditions  of  a 
bold  highwayman  whom  his  father  remembered,  are  inter 
woven  with  the  fortunes  of  the  hero. 

In  the  beginning  of  October,  when  he  had  just  finished 
the  eleventh  chapter,  Taylor  was  regretfully  obliged  to 
interrupt  his  work  again  in  order  to  travel  in  the  West, 
where  the  public  wanted  to  hear  him  lecture.  During  his 
absence  of  five  weeks,  I  wrote  to  my  mother,  describing 
my  lonely  days: 

"The  heavenly  weather  that  we  enjoy  here  in  autumn 
is  unknown  to  you  across  the  water.  Even  in  the  early 
morning,  when  the  freshness  of  the  night  dew  is  still 
perceptible,  the  air  is  mild  and  balmy,  and  during  the 
day  the  sun  is  still  powerful  enough  to  make  us  seek  the 
shade,  and  to  force  me  to  close  the  shutters  of  my  room. 
And  these  autumnal  sunsets!  I  love  to  watch  the  even 
ing  glory  of  the  western  sky  from  the  large  bay-window 
of  the  library.  Like  an  immense  fiery  ball  the  orb  of 
day  sinks  to  the  horizon  and  disappears.  Our  ancient 
chestnuts*  are  silhouetted  almost  black  against  the  glow, 
which  gradually  turns  to  dark  orange-red,  and  then  fades 
to  a  pale,  silvery  green  that  lingers  until  the  dark  night 
falls.  .  .  .  The  gardener  is  at  work  dividing  the 
garden  into  several  terraces  facing  the  south.  We  have 

*  These  two  trees,  distant  about  two  hundred  feet  from  the  house, 
were  our  special  pride.  One  of  them  measured  twenty-seven  feet, 
the  other  twenty-four  feet  in  circumference. 


THREE   PROLIFIC  YEARS  163 

also  been  digging  for  an  old  well;  my  father-in-law 
remembered  that  there  used  to  be  one  near  an  old  house 
that  stood  in  our  present  garden.  The  well  is  necessary 
for  the  latter,  so  the  gardeners  hunted  for  it,  and  after 
having  found  the  foundations  of  the  old  house,  they  soon 
located  it.  The  well  is  lined  with  masonry,  and  twelve 
feet  have  already  been  cleared  out.  As  it  is  filled  up 
with  stones  and  rocks,  they  expect  to  find  a  nest  of  black- 
snakes  *  in  the  depths,  and  Lilian  has  strict  orders  to 
keep  away. 

" .  .  .  Gold  is  still  very  high,  and  living  therefore 
remarkably  expensive.  We  have  to  pay  $90  a  week 
this  year  for  the  furnished  floor  that  we  shall  soon  occupy 
in  New  York,  and  this  is  said  to  be  cheap  in  comparison 
to  other  lodgings.  We  shall,  however,  have  fine  rooms 
and  more  space  than  last  winter.  My  husband  is  par 
ticularly  pleased  about  a  little  room  at  the  back,  in  which 
he  can  write  and  paint  undisturbed.  .  .  . 

"  We  notice  the  approach  of  winter  in  the  mass  meetings 
of  the  blackbirds  among  the  topmost  boughs  of  our 
tall  walnut  trees,  that  stand  in  a  handsome  group  near 
the  house.  Toward  the  close  of  the  day  they  consult 
about  their  migration  with  an  immense  amount  of  chat 
tering  and  clamour,  and  soon  after  take  wing  and  are  gone. 
One  day  a  whole  flock  of  dainty  blue  jays  paid  us  a 
visit.  They  fluttered  about  the  American  ivy  on  the 
veranda,  with  its  profusion  of  dark  blue  berries;  the 
following  day  the  birds  and  the  berries  had  both  dis 
appeared." 

Early  in  December,  after  my  husband's  return  from  the 
West,  we  moved  to  New  York,  where  work  was  at  once 
resumed  on  the  novel,  and  the  author  devoted  himself 
so  assiduously  to  his  task  that  the  entire  manuscript  was 
finished  by  the  end  of  January.  With  an  easy  conscience 

*  This  proved  to  be  the  case. 


164  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

he  could  now  turn  to  his  brushes  and  devote  himself  to 
social  pleasures.  Our  circle  continued  to  grow  ever 
larger.  After  the  war  was  over,  a  season  of  social  gaiety 
set  in,  such  as  we  had  not  known  for  years.  We  all  felt 
that  now  we  could  enjoy  ourselves  with  a  clear  conscience. 
During  this  winter  Edwin  Booth,  the  great  tragedian, 
appeared  on  the  stage  again  for  the  first  time  since  the 
dastardly  deed  of  his  infamous  brother,  the  assassin  of 
Lincoln,  which  had  deeply  grieved  him.  I  wrote  to  my 
mother-in-law :  "  We  saw  Booth  on  his  first  reappearance. 
The  audience  received  him  splendidly.  The  clapping, 
cheering,  and  waving  of  handkerchiefs  lasted  several 
minutes,  and  seemed  as  if  it  would  never  end.  He 
responded  with  quiet  dignity,  and  played  superbly." 

When  spring  came  we  were  so  satiated  with  gaieties 
that  we  were  glad  to  bid  farewell  to  the  city.  After  the 
amusements  of  the  winter  we  breathed  refreshment  in 
the  pure  air  and  the  quietude  of  the  country.  Before  we 
left  New  York,  however,  we  had  the  satisfaction  of  know 
ing  that  6,000  copies  of  "Kennett,"  which  had  just 
appeared,  had  already  been  sold. 

From  Gotha  came  the  news  that  my  father  had  received 
an  appointment  to  go  to  Berlin  as  a  member  of  the 
Academy.  He  informed  us  of  his  reason  for  declining 
this  honour  in  a  birthday  letter  that  reached  me  a  few 
weeks  later.  "If  this  had  come  earlier,"  he  wrote,  "I 
would  certainly  have  accepted  it,  but  now  I  am  too  old." 

At  the  same  time  I  was  filled  with  care  and  anxiety 
for  my  native  land  and  my  dear  ones  in  the  old  home. 
The  war  between  Prussia  and  Austria  had  begun,  and  the 
field  of  battle  had  suddenly  come  very  near  to  my  native 
town.  The  detailed  accounts  in  my  dear  mother's 


THREE   PROLIFIC   YEARS  165 

letters  kept  me  informed  of  the  anxious  and  exciting 
events  of  those  days.  Then  followed  the  great  battle 
of  Koniggratz  and  the  treaty  of  peace,  which  dissipated 
the  dark  clouds  that  long  had  threatened  Germany,  and 
heralded  the  victorious  beginnings  of  Bismarck's  brilliant 
career.  At  this  crisis  I  realised  how  thoroughly  German 
I  had  remained  after  all. 

The  meditative  quiet  of  our  life  at  "Cedarcroft" 
exerted  its  influence  on  my  husband.  "  Faust "  was  taken 
up  again,  and  the  translation  made  rapid  progress.  First 
the  difficulties  of  the  "Dedication"  fired  his  ambition. 
His  earlier  translation  no  longer  satisfied  him,  and  he 
remodelled  it  until  he  found  nothing  more  to  improve. 
Then  he  succeeded  in  translating  some  other  difficult 
passages  in  the  same  metre  and  the  same  order  of  rhyme 
as  the  original,  which  filled  him  with  courage  for  the 
remainder  of  his  task.  This  concentration  of  his  mind — 
he  described  his  work  as  "heart-rending,  yet  intensely 
fascinating" — combined  with  the  demands  made  upon 
him  by  the  farm  and  garden,  rendered  it  advisable  after 
a  few  weeks  that  he  should  break  away  for  a  while  from 
these  cares.  He  was  therefore  glad  to  join  some  acquaint 
ances  in  a  trip  to  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

No  railway  then  crossed  the  great  continental  plain, 
and  the  danger  of  an  attack  of  hostile  Indians  upon  the 
stage-coach  made  me  regard  this  journey  with  anxiety. 
As  my  husband  wrote  often  during  his  absence,  I  quote  the 
principal  facts  from  his  letters : 

"DENVER,  Colorado,  Monday,  June  18,   1866. 
".    .    .    Fortunately,  you  will  know  of  my  arrival  to-day, 
as  I  have  just  telegraphed  ($7),  in  order  to  set  your  mind  at 
rest,  if  you  should  hear  any  alarming  reports  of  Indians. 


1 66  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

".  .  .  We  travelled  slowly  all  Wednesday  night,  on 
account  of  mud,  but  by  10  o'  clock  on  Thursday  were  at 
Fort  Ellsworth,  away  from  civilization,  in  the  Indian 
country.  Up  to  this  point  there  had  been  all  sorts  of 
rumors — that  no  Indians  were  to  be  seen  on  the  route, 
which  was  a  bad  sign — that  they  had  showed  themselves 
within  a  few  days,  which  was  another  bad  sign — that  they 
had  just  received  presents  from  Gov't,  which  was  bad— 
that  they  had  not  received  any,  which  was  bad  again, 
etc.,  etc.  .  .  .  The  weather  was  wonderful,  the  roads 
fine,  and  the  scenery  new,  strange,  and  of  great  occasional 
beauty.  On  Thursday  afternoon,  we  began  to  see  herds 
of  buffaloes  and  antelopes,  wolves,  rattle-snakes  and 
skunks.  We  shot  one  buffalo  on  the  way.  The  largest 
herd  had  four  or  five  hundred  animals.  But  what  a  won 
derful  air  I  breathed — and  what  flowers  everywhere! 
Larkspurs,  verbenas,  pinks,  anemones,  poppies,  crimson 
and  yellow  cactus,  yuccas,  lupins — there  was  no  end  to 
them.  There  were  miles  and  miles  like  the  richest  garden 
beds.  I  send  you  a  crimson  anemone  which  I  plucked 
on  the  way.  .  .  .  The  meals  were  rare  (two  a  day) 
and  consisted  of  heavy  dough  biscuits  and  salt  bacon. 
On  Friday  we  passed  through  the  region  of  chalk  bluffs, 
which  form  towers,  fortresses,  old  German  castles,  even 
entire  cities  of  natural  masonry,  rising  out  of  the  broad 
valleys  of  grass  and  flowers.  On  Saturday  morning  we 
were  only  200  miles  from  Denver.  Here  commenced  50 
miles  of  Desert,  almost  like  Africa.  We  had  antelope  for 
breakfast,  and  travelled  all  day  through  cities  of  prairie 
dogs  and  owls,  which  live  together  in  the  same  holes.  We 
caught  one  prairie  dog  and  killed  one  rattle-snake.  Saw 
thousands  of  antelopes,  and  many  wolves.  In  the  after 
noon  I  discovered  Pike's  Peak,  a  faint  cone  of  snow  rising 
above  the  horizon,  130  miles  distant.  The  country 
became  green  again,  and  the  flowers  reappeared.  We 
travelled  very  rapidly  all  Saturday  night,  but  the  road 
was  rough  and  the  jolts  and  bumps  so  terrible,  that  I 


THREE   PROLIFIC   YEARS  167 

couldn't  sleep  a  wink.  .  .  .  Yesterday  morning  we 
found  ourselves  in  a  hilly  country,  with  a  few  small  groves 
of  pine.  At  sunrise,  from  the  heights  we  saw  not  only 
Pike's  Peak,  but  150  miles  of  the  Rocky  Mountains — a 
dazzling  range  of  snowy  peaks.  From  one  point  the  view 
was  superior  to  that  of  the  Bernese  Oberland.  I  was 
charmed,  excited,  inspired  by  the  magnificent  scenery. 
The  air  was  that  of  California,  but  cooler.  All  day  we 
rode  over  the  hills,  watching  the  great  Alpine  chain  rise 
higher,  taking  meals  of  antelope  steak,  and  drinking  from 
the  pure,  cold  streams.  Just  before  sunset  we  drove  into 
Denver — four  days  and  six  hours  on  the  way.  .  .  .  I 
have  got  Faust,  the  novel  and  all  other  literary  plans  out 
of  my  head.  .  .  .  The  journey  has  already  done  me 
a  great  deal  of  good.  .  .  .  There  will  be  seven  of  us, 
including  Beard  and  Whittredge." 

"EMPIRE,  foot  of  the  snowy  range, 

"Wednesday,  June  27,  1866. 
u 

"I  am  here,  8,500  feet  above  the  sea.     It  is  9  miles  to 

the  top  of  the  pass,  which  is  1 1 ,000  feet  high.     Mr.  B s, 

Beard,  and  two  Bostonians  are  here,  our  horses  are  en 
gaged,  and  provisions  are  being  prepared  for  to-morrow, 
when  we  shall  cross  to  Pacific  waters.  I  shall  not  be 
within  reach  of  mails  again  for  six  days,  although  our 
mountain  trip  through  the  Middle  Park  will  only  occupy 
five.  The  weather  is  heavenly — one  cloudless  day  after 
another,  cool  moonlit  nights,  delicious  mornings,  and 
only  a  little  heat  in  the  afternoon.  The  fare,  so  far,  is 
capital,  and  I  am  feeling  remarkably  well.  I  have  again 
that  rugged  health  which  makes  the  mountain  trip  seem 
delightful." 

"  BRECKENRIDGE, 
"Middle  Park  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 

"Monday,  July  2,    1866. 
"I  am  so  delighted  at  getting  your  letter,  quite  unex- 


168  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

pectedly  to-day,  that  I  must  write  at  once,  to  the  neglect 
of  my  Tribune  correspondence.  .  .  .  I'll  give  you 
first  the  merest  sketch  of  the  trip  thus  far. 

"  We  left  Empire  on  Thursday  last,  climbing  the  moun 
tains  through  the  most  wonderful  scenery,  and  at  2^  in 
the  afternoon  stood  on  the  Berthoud  Pass,  more  than 
1 1,000  feet  above  the  sea.  We  were  in  a  world  of  snow — 
almost  as  high  as  the  Jungfrau.  The  field  of  snow  melted 
both  ways,  into  the  Atlantic  and  the  Pacific.  We  had  to 
descend  through  immense  snow-drifts,  in  which  we  sank 
to  our  waists,  men  and  horses  floundering  and  tumbling 
down  the  steep  together.  Then  for  twelve  miles  through 
fir- woods  full  of  snow  and  mud,  and  furious,  ice-cold 
streams.  We  slept  under  the  trees,  and  entered  the 
Middle  Park  next  morning.  This  is  unlike  anything  I 
ever  saw — a  region  80  miles  in  breadth,  surrounded  by 
high  Alps — the  plains  were  beds  of  flowers,  the  higher 
plateaus  completely  covered  with  sage  and  larkspurs,  and 
the  hills  and  mountain  meadows  precisely  like  those  of 
the  Thuringerwald.  On  Friday  we  rode  30  miles,  mean 
ing  to  stop  at  the  Boiling  Springs,  but  the  Grand  River 
was  so  high  we  could  not  cross.  Neither  could  we  take 
the  usual  trail,  but  were  obliged  to  strike  almost  at  ran 
dom  across  the  wilderness  for  this  place,  75  miles  distant. 
On  Saturday  we  travelled  about  30  miles,  sometimes  on 
the  edge  of  precipices,  with  rivers  hundreds  of  feet  below, 
sometimes  through  swamps,  great  forests  where  our 
horses  could  barely  squeeze  themselves  between  the  trees, 
or  across  icy  streams  which  reached  to  the  saddle,  and 
nearly  overturned  our  horses.  At  night  we  camped  on  the 
ground,  kindled  a  huge  fire  of  logs  and  cooked  our  meal. 
On  Saturday  night  it  rained,  and  we  were  tolerably  damp 
when  we  awoke.  We  became  covered  with  snow  and 
mud,  dried  again,  got  wet  again  and  then  dry,  dipped  our 
selves  in  the  icy  water  to  take  the  soreness  out  of  our 
bones,  had  tremendous  appetites  and  slept  very  well  after 
the  first  night.  On  Saturday,  also,  we  met  Indians,  and 


THREE   PROLIFIC  YEARS  169 

had  a  little  talk  with  them  in  Spanish.  Yesterday  we 
had  a  very  rough  trip,  and  some  of  the  grandest  scenery 
I  ever  saw — 50  miles  of  snow  peaks  as  high  as  Mont 
Blanc,  rocks,  forests,  deep  gorges,  and  valleys  ten  miles 
broad.  I  can't  describe  it.  When  we  arose  this  morn 
ing,  the  coffee  and  water  were  frozen  solid.  We  tried  to 
cross  the  Blue  River,  and  had  one  pack-mule  washed 

away,  but  hauled  him  out  again.    .    .    .    Mr.  B s  went 

over  head  and  ears  and  was  washed  down  some  distance. 
We  pulled  him  and  his  horse  out  with  ropes,  and  then  kept 
on  this  side  of  the  river,  although  we  had  to  make  our 
own  path  thro'  dense  forests,  swamps  and  over  rocks. 
This  is  the  first  inhabited  place  we  have  seen  in  125  miles. 
I  never  knew  what  rough  travel  was,  before.  I  felt  as  if 
broken  to  pieces,  the  first  three  days,  but  am  now  getting 
limber  again.  .  .  .  Poor  Beard  is  used  up — he  can't 
even  sketch.  .  .  .  From  this  point  we  shall  have  a 
miners'  camp  every  night,  and  a  well-beaten  trail  by  day. 
To-night  we  shall  have  beds.  We  met  Ute  Indians  yes 
terday,  and  to-day  the  Chief  of  the  Middle  Park,  with  a 
face  painted  scarlet.  They  were  all  very  friendly.  . 

"  Your  description  of  our  strawberries  makes  my  mouth 
water,  after  five  days  of  pork,  crackers  and  black  coffee. 
But  I  feel  that  I  am  getting  physical  strength  and  refresh 
ment  all  the  time,  and  therefore  don't  lament.  Your 
letter  cheers  and  encourages  me,  in  spite  of  the  petites 
miseres.  The  work  is  going  on  better  than  I  hoped. 
Your  letter  was  better  than  a  bushel  of  strawberries 
to-day.  We  have  still  ten  days  on  horseback  before  we 
reach  Denver.  .  .  .  The  travel  is  so  rough,  and  I 
have  so  much  to  do  for  my  horse,  bed  and  meals,  that  I 
have  only  made  two  or  three  very  rude  sketches,  and 
rough  notes  for  my  letters."  * 

A  letter  to  his  daughter,  written  about  that  time,  ran 
thus: 

*  Published  first  in  the  Tribune,  and  afterward  in  a  small  volume. 


170  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 


DEAR  LITTLE  GIRL: 

"Here  I  am,  in  the  wild  country,  two  thousand  miles 
from  you  and  mamma.  I  write  this  letter  so  that  you 
can  read  it  yourself  [in  printed  letters],  I  have  seen  a 
great  many  wolves,  and  snakes,  and  deer,  and  little  wild 
dogs,  which  live  in  holes  in  the  ground.  One  day  I  saw 
two  beautiful  deer,  chasing  a  big  gray  wolf.  They  had  a 
little  deer  which  was  hid  in  the  grass.  The  big  wolf 
wanted  to  eat  it,  and  so  its  father  and  mother  chased  the 
wolf  away.  I  was  very  glad  the  wolf  did  not  get  the  little 
deer.  The  wild  dogs  sat  up  on  their  hind  legs  and  barked 
at  us.  We  ran  after  one  and  caught  it.  It  was  not  so 
big  as  a  cat.  There  are  brown  owls  which  live  in  the 
same  holes  with  the  dogs. 

"  In  one  place  I  saw  a  little  girl,  like  you,  living  in  a 
house  dug  out  of  the  ground.  She  had  three  tame  dogs, 
and  she  played  with  them,  because  there  were  no  other 
children  there.  Then  one  day  we  killed  a  snake  which 
had  rattles  on  the  end  of  his  tail.  There  were  no  houses 
in  the  country,  and  no  fences,  and  no  trees,  but  only  grass 
and  flowers  and  wild  animals. 

"  I  wish  I  could  bring  you  one  of  the  little  wild  dogs, 
but  I  am  afraid  I  could  not  carry  it.  If  you  can  read 
this  letter,  you  must  write  one  to  me.  So  good-bye,  and 
don't  forget 

"Your  loving  father, 

"BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

"I  send  you  the  rattle  from  the  snake's  tail." 

In  spite  of  the  physical  hardships  that  my  husband 
had  undergone  —  by  way  of  recreation  —  he  returned  to  us 
in  good  health  and  spirits.  The  depressing  heat  of  the 
dog-days  alone  hindered  him  from  at  once  resuming 
serious  work.  Instead,  he  bought  a  box  of  oil  colours  and 
began  to  make  a  series  of  attempts  at  oil-painting,  which 
so  took  his  fancy  that  for  a  while  his  room  looked  more 


THREE   PROLIFIC   YEARS  171 

like  an  artist's  studio  than  like  the  study  of  a  literary  man. 
The  library,  with  his  large  rectangular  writing  table  in 
the  centre,  had  two  windows  looking  toward  the  south 
and  a  great  three-windowed  bay  toward  the  west. 
He  would  not  allow  any  of  these  to  be  obscured,  even  in 
the  hottest  weather,  for  he  was  a  sun  worshipper  in  so  far 
as  he  always  gave  the  rays  of  the  life-giving  orb  free 
access  to  the  room  in  which  he  happened  to  be. 

To  this  fervid  sun,  so  enervating  to  us  human  beings, 
was  due  the  wonderful  profusion  and  the  ripe  lusciousness 
of  our  fruit.  After  the  season  of  the  various  berries  was 
past,  our  table  was  laden  with  the  finest  apples,  the  most 
juicy  pears,  the  ruddiest  of  peaches,  the  sweetest  of 
grapes;  with  golden  cantaloups  of  the  most  aromatic 
flavour,  and  gigantic  watermelons  whose  rosy  interior 
exuded  a  delicious  nectar. 

During  those  hot  days  we  were  also  maturing  our  future 
plans.  For  some  time  past  I  had  felt  a  longing  for  my 
home  in  the  Old  World,  and  my  husband  also  expressed 
a  desire  for  a  complete  rest  in  Europe.  In  the  month  of 
May  I  had  written  to  my  mother : 

"  Life  in  America  is  so  exciting  and  fatiguing  that  it  is 
necessary  and  desirable  to  provide  an  interruption  once 
in  a  while.  I  believe  there  is  no  such  thing  as  absolute 
rest  in  this  country.  We  seem  to  breathe  excitement 
and  stimulation  with  the  very  air,  and  the  large  house 
hold  that  I  have  to  superintend  wears  on  my  nerves ;  so 
that  the  leisure,  the  meditation  to  which  we  can  give 
ourselves  up  when  in  the  Old  World,  seem  to  me  some 
thing  paradisiac." 

That  my  husband  felt  as  I  did,  may  be  inferred  from  a 
German  letter  to  my  father  toward  the  end  of  the  year, 


172  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

in  which  he  said :  "I  am  just  as  impatient  as  Marie  until 
we  can  have  some  quiet  days  in  Germany.  After  three 
years  of  constant  excitement  and  work,  I  need  rest,  and 
look  forward  with  delight  to  a  summer  in  the  Thuringian 
Forest." 

In  order  to  save  money  for  our  proposed  journey,  we 
remained  at  "  Cedar  croft"  for  the  winter;  Taylor  only 
was  absent  at  intervals,  and  with  the  New  Year  we  began 
to  prepare  our  house  and  farm  for  a  lengthy  absence,  for 
our  plans  extended  beyond  Germany.  My  husband  and 
I  shared  an  intense  love  for  Italy,  and  we  were  filled  with 
delight  at  the  thought  of  seeing  that  beautiful  country 
again  and  learning  to  know  it  better.  It  was  therefore 
with  the  most  agreeable  anticipations  that  we  embarked 
on  a  Lloyd  steamer  early  in  February  for  our  voyage 
across  the  ocean. 


CHAPTER  X 
IN  EUROPE 

WHEN  we  landed  at  Southampton,  we  found  snow 
drops,  yellow  primroses,  and  daffodils  in  bloom  upon  the 
fresh  green  turf.  We  tarried  a  few  days  in  this  city, 
while  my  husband  and  I  paid  a  visit  to  Tennyson  and  his 
wife  at  Farringford,  on  the  Isle  of  Wight,  after  announcing 
ourselves  and  receiving  a  cordial  invitation.  The  mild 
climate  of  the  island  favours  a  southern  vegetation,  so 
that  we  saw,  for  instance,  hedges  of  laurustinus  in  full 
bloom.  We  arrived  in  the  afternoon,  and  remained  at 
the  house  of  the  poet  until  the  following  midday.  Tenny 
son's  tall,  imposing  presence,  distinguished  features  and 
long,  dark  locks,  beside  the  delicate  fairness  of  his  blonde 
wife,  left  an  indelible  impression;  nor  will  the  hours  that 
we  spent  in  their  company  ever  be  forgotten.  In  the 
evening,  when  we  sat  together  in  the  drawing-room, 
Tennyson  read  portions  of  "  Guinevere  "  aloud  to  us  in  his 
deep,  sonorous  tones,  and  afterward  decanted  a  bottle 
of  old  fiery  sherry,  that  he  declared  worthy  of  Cleopatra, 
or  Catherine  II. 

Notable  as  was  this  beginning  of  our  stay  in  England, 
the  succeeding  week  in  London  contained  a  series  of 
interesting  occurrences  and  many  agreeable  hours.  My 
husband's  days  were  fully  occupied  by  various  literary 
lights,  among  whom  we  sorely  missed  our  lamented 
Thackeray.  I,  too,  made  some  valuable  acquaintances 


174  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

on  several  occasions.  One  of  these  was  a  soiree  given  by 
Mrs.  Procter,  at  which  her  venerable  husband,  "Barry 
Cornwall" — as  fresh  as  ever  intellectually,  although  his 
physical  vigour  had  departed — received  the  guests  sitting 
in  his  arm-chair.  At  the  end  of  the  week  I  had  the  great 
pleasure  of  meeting  the  then  youngest  celebrity  of  the 
English  Parnassus — the  poet  Algernon  Charles  Swinburne. 
I  was  struck  by  his  appearance  the  moment  he  entered 
our  room;  his  slender  form,  the  reddish  hair  that  curled 
thickly  over  his  head,  his  fine  and  mobile  features,  high 
forehead,  bright  brown  eyes,  and  a  thin  moustache  above 
the  sensitive  mouth — all  these  combined  to  give  him  the 
air  of  an  unusual  personality.  He  was  very  excitable, 
impulsive  in  speech  and  gesture.  He  teased  our  little 
daughter,  romped  with  her  and  hid  under  the  long  folds 
of  the  tablecloth.  He  seemed  to  be  pleased  that  we 
admired  his  "Atalanta  in  Calydon"  and  his  latest  drama 
"  Chastelard, "  and  offered  to  read  us  the  French  chansons 
occurring  in  the  latter.  He  asked  for  a  lighted  candle, 
although  it  was  bright  daylight;  then  he  held  the  book 
in  one  hand  close  to  the  taper,  and  read,  with  the  index 
finger  of  the  other  hand  closing  the  left  eye.  This 
picture  was  so  striking,  that  it  impressed  itself  indelibly 
on  my  memory. 

We  were  finally  obliged  to  take  our  departure  from 
London  in  order  to  escape  from  the  increasing  number 
of  dinner  invitations  and  other  social  engagements.  And 
besides,  our  time  was  limited.  First  we  made  a  short 
stay  in  my  old  home,  where  the  inclement  Thuringian 
weather  gave  us  a  disagreeable  aftertaste  of  winter.  All 
the  warmer  and  more  hearty  seemed  the  reception 
accorded  us  by  parents,  relatives,  and  friends.  We  were 


IN   EUROPE  175 

dined  by  all  in  succession ;  we  were  toasted  in  prose  and 
verse;  delicacies  such  as  only  the  cuisine  of  Gotha  can 
supply  were  set  before  us ;  the  finest  brands  of  "  Marco- 
brunner,"  " Liebfrauenmilch "  ("the  milk  of  Our  Dear 
Lady"),  and  champagne  were  uncorked  in  our  honour. 
We  enjoyed  the  performances  of  the  Court  Theatre, 
which  was  open  for  the  season  from  New  Year  to  Easter — 
the  period  when  the  Court  resides  at  Gotha.  The  Duke 
and  Duchess  again  invited  us  to  dinner.  The  table  was 
set  in  the  lovely  winter  garden  of  the  little  residential 
villa  and  we  dined  among  palms  and  other  exotic  plants, 
in  a  small  but  all  the  more  enjoyable  company.  Never 
theless,  after  three  weeks  of  this  delectable  life,  we  were 
longing  to  escape  from  the  rugged  North.  Our  thoughts 
turned  to  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  where  we  visited  Taylor's 
elder  sister.  We  found  her  living  with  her  husband  and 
little  boy  in  a  house  surrounded  by  orchards  and  vine 
yards,  outside  the  city  of  Lausanne.  From  a  broad 
terrace  hedged  with  laurel  and  cypress  in  front  of  the  low 
dwelling-house  we  could  overlook  the  deep  blue  expanse 
of  Lake  Leman,  on  whose  opposite  shore  rise  the  majestic 
peaks  of  the  Savoy  an  Alps.  During  the  several  quiet 
weeks  that  we  spent  there,  we  learned  to  know  the  glorious 
lake  under  varying  aspects — in  sunlit  beauty,  in  wind  and 
storm,  illumined  by  the  rising  and  the  setting  sun,  flecked 
with  dark  cloud  shadows,  ruffled  by  a  light  breeze,  or  when 

"Far  along, 

From  peak  to  peak,  the  rattling  crags  among 
Leaps  the  live  thunder!" 

Closed  in  on  all  sides  by  its  beautiful  shores,  the  lake 
impresses  itself  on  the  memory  as  one  of  the  ideal  spots 


i76  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

of  the  earth,  as  a  picture  that  not  even  the  glorious  Gulf 
of  Naples  can  outshine. 

My  husband's  tireless  hand  and  brain  were  fully 
occupied  in  this  period  of  pleasant  rest.  When  he  laid 
aside  his  leisurely  pen,  he  took  up  the  brush.  The  ever- 
varying  hues  of  mountain,  lake,  and  shore  invited  him 
to  paint  a  series  of  sketches,  while  his  pen  found  abundant 
material  for  the  "  Random  Letters"  that  he  had  promised 
to  write  for  the  Tribune,  and  for  the  more  lengthy  con 
tributions  published  in  the  Atlantic.  The  latter  he  after 
ward  collected  in  book  form,  as  "By-ways  of  Europe." 
His  obligations  in  respect  to  these  articles  led  him  to  make 
short  trips,  first  to  Appenzell,  and  then  to  the  Balearic 
Islands.  In  the  interval  he  went  with  me  for  a  flying 
visit  of  a  week  to  Paris  to  see  the  Exposition.  There  we 
met  old  friends  and  spent  some  pleasant  days.  A  catch 
word  that  we  heard  on  the  lips  of  everyone  afforded  us 
much  amusement.  Everywhere — in  the  street,  in  the 
cafes,  in  the  theatre — acquaintances  as  well  as  strangers 
greeted  one  another  with  the  words :  "As-tu  vu  Lambert?" 
Even  the  Emperor  was  hailed  with  the  same  cry  when  he 
was  seen  in  an  open  carriage  in  the  streets  of  Paris.  At 
last  we  received  the  explanation.  An  aged  peasant  by 
the  name  of  Lambert  and  his  old  wife  had  come  to  Paris 
to  see  the  sights,  and  when  they  were  about  to  start 
home  again,  the  old  woman  became  separated  from  her 
husband  in  the  crowded  railway  station.  Frantically 
she  rushed  from  one  end  of  the  building  to  the  other, 
asking  every  person  whom  she  met,  "As-tu  vu  Lambert?" 
(Have  you  seen  Lambert?)  The  common  people  at  once 
took  up  the  words  and  repeated  them  ad  infinitum, 
thereby  presenting  all  Paris  with  a  catchword. 


IN   EUROPE  177 

During  my  husband's  four-weeks'  trip  for  the  collection 
of  new  material  for  his  pen,  I  received  a  number  of  letters, 
from  which  I  quote  some  extracts : 

"  PERPIGNAN,  foot  of  the  Pyrenees,  May  3oth. 
"It  is  now  one  o'clock,  and  I  imagine  that  you  are 
approaching   Eisenach;   while    I,    in   this    old,    Moorish- 
looking  town,  am  waiting  for  the  diligence  into  Spain. 

"  Yesterday  I  had  but  a  glimpse  of  Lyons,  which  I  had 
not  seen  since  those  doleful  days  of  1846,*  but  I  found 
that  I  knew  every  house.  Going  down  the  Rhone  it 
was  the  same  thing :  my  memory  was  astonishingly  correct. 
Before  reaching  Avignon,  I  struck  the  olive,  the  box-tree 
and  the  ilex — near  Montpelier  I  saw  an  orange  tree,  and 
at  Cette  touched  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean. 

" .  .  .  There  is  still  snow  on  the  Pyrenees,  but  all 
around  here  the  country  is  covered  with  olives  and  vines. 
The  wine  (Roussillon)  is  excellent;  cherries  are  almost 
over,  and  figs  are  nearly  ripe.  The  people  seem  to  be 
talkative  and  friendly — all  speak  a  little  French,  though 
the  language  is  Provencal." 

"PALMA,  MAJORCA,  Saturday  eve,  June  ist. 
"All  day  I  have  been  wandering  about  this  queer  old 
city,  enjoying  the  Moorish  architecture,  the  palms, 
bananas,  pepper-trees,  and  blossoming  pomegranates 
and  oleanders.  Here  the  palms  bear  dates,  which  are 
sold  in  the  market.  Everything  is  as  picturesque  as  it 
can  well  be — but  there  are  no  guides  or  helps  of  any  kind, 
and  I  must  find  out  my  way,  myself.  The  people  seem 
to  be  very  obliging  and  friendly,  and  are  always  willing 
to  give  me  guidance  when  I  can  make  them  understand. 

*  Taylor  refers  to  his  earlier  visit  to  Lyons,  when  he  and  his  travelling 
companion  were  anxiously  waiting  for  money,  as  described  in  "Views 
Afoot." 


1 78  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

The  Majorcan  dialect  is  something  between  Catalonian 
and  Provencal,  and  puzzles  me  not  a  little,  because  it 
sounds  as  if  I  knew  it — and  yet  I  don't. 

"This  afternoon  I  walked  into  the  country,  turning 
off  the  road  into  fields  of  wheat  and  maize,  between 
hedges  of  cactus  and  aloe,  and  among  enormous  olive 
and  almond  trees.  The  dust  is  two  inches  deep  in  the 
roads,  and  white  as  flour;  but  the  heat  is  tempered  by 
a  delicious  sea-breeze.  I  must  have  walked  six  or  seven 
miles  to-day,  and  with  less  fatigue  than  I  anticipated. 
There  are  glimpses  of  old  Moorish  court-yards  in  every 
street — and  any  quantity  of  subjects  to  paint,  if  I  could 
do  it  in  public.  Strangers  are  so  rare  that  the  people 
look  at  me  sufficiently  as  it  is. 

'll  can  get  no  guide  to  go  with  me,  and  am  therefore 
obliged  to  make  an  excursion  to  Valdemosa  (9  miles 
distant)  and  return  to  this  place.  Then  I  shall  take  the 
main  road  across  the  island  to  Alcudia,  whence  I  shall 
sail  on  Thursday  to  Port  Mahon  in  Minorca.  I  shall 
have  two  days  in  that  island,  and  return  thence  to 
Barcelona." 

"  Sunday,  June  2 — evening. 

"I  have  just  returned  from  Valdemosa,  high  in  the 
mountains,  and  a  lovelier  place  I  never  saw.  A  torn 
and  rugged  wilderness  of  rocks,  which  are  crowned  with 
hanging  gardens  of  olive,  orange  and  palm-trees — a 
tropical  splendor  of  vegetation,  framed  by  precipices 
and  savage  mountains.  All  Italy  has  nothing  equal  to 
it.  How  I  wished  for  you!  This  alone  has  repaid  me 
for  coming  so  far,  for  I  know  nothing  similar  to  it  any 
where.  The  road  is  good,  but  there  are  no  inns,  or  I 
would  have  staid  all  night.  I  made  two  sketches — not 
the  best,  but  such  as  I  could  get.  The  people  crowded 
about  me  so  that  it  was  nearly  impossible  to  see  or  work. 
But  it  is  a  wonderful  place  for  a  painter. 

"I  have  made  arrangements  with  a  man  to  take  me 
across  the  island  in  two  days,  in  a  two-horse  carriage, 


IN   EUROPE  179 

for  $5,  he  to  pay  all  his  own  expenses.  This  is  quite 
cheap,  and  I  don't  think  I  could  do  better.  Yesterday, 
the  loss  of  Spanish  (which,  try  as  I  might,  would  not 
come  back)  tormented  me  greatly:  this  morning,  to  my 
astonishment,  I  found  that  I  could  say  all  I  wanted, 
without  the  least  trouble.  The  forgotten  words  came 
all  at  once. 

"My  impression  of  the  people  is  not  changed — they 
are  a  very  honest  and  friendly  race.  But  the  scenery 
of  Valdemosa  will  not  out  of  my  head:  I  still  see  those 
magnificent  palms,  shooting  up  from  the  brinks  of  preci 
pices,  and  those  huge  orange-trees,  perfectly  golden 
with  fruit,  nestled  among  the  gray  rocks." 

"  BARCELONA,  Monday,  June  10. 

"  I  reached  here  this  morning  at  7,  in  the  steamer  from 
Minorca,  and  an  hour  afterwards  had  your  letter  of  the 
3rd.  I  am  glad  you  got  along  so  well,  and  are  so  com 
fortable  in  Gotha.  .  .  . 

"On  Thursday  morning  I  embarked  for  Minorca,  and 
landed  at  Port  Mahon  in  the  evening.  This  is  a  charming 
place.  Built  on  a  high  rock,  overlooking  a  splendid 
harbor,  it  is  bright,  clean,  cheerful,  full  of  pictures,  and 
altogether  delightful.  I  spent  two  days  rambling  about 
the  country,  which  is  one  immense  rock,  covered  with 
fields  and  gardens.  It  is  quite  different  from  Majorca, 
and  the  people  pleased  me  even  better.  You  can  travel 
alone  anywhere,  day  or  night — robbery  is  unknown.  The 
Am.  Consul  was  very  attentive  and  went  about  with  me 
as  guide.  There  was  not  a  single  foreign  traveller  on  either 
island:  they  come  very  seldom.  I  should  like  to  have 
spent  two  weeks  in  Minorca,  had  you  been  along.  .  .  . 

"Foix,  Tuesday,  June  i8th. 

"I  reached  here  at  noon  to-day,  after  a  wonderfully 
interesting,  wild  and  fatiguing  journey.  I  can  only 
give  you  the  outline  of  it  now.  Last  Tuesday  I  slept  at 


i8o  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

the  foot  of  Montserrat,  spent  Wednesday  on  that  extraor 
dinary  mountain,  and  reached  the  town  of  Mauresa  late 
at  night.  The  heat  was  truly  African.  On  Thursday, 
I  went  by  a  sort  of  country  omnibus  to  Cardona,  where 
there  is  an  immense  hill  of  pure  salt.  Here  I  engaged  a 
horse  and  man  for  Urgel,  in  the  Pyrenees,  two  days' 
journey — nothing  but  bridle-roads,  often  rocky  ladders, 
nearly  impassable.  A  frightfully  rough  country,  made 
up  of  precipices,  chasms,  valleys  of  olive  and  vine,  and 
huge  mountains,  the  people  primitive,  ignorant  and 
dirty,  but  kindly  and  honest.  Reached  Urgel  Saturday, 
after  two  very  hard  days.  As  I  drew  nearer  Andorra, 
I  found  it  easier  to  get  there — at  Barcelona  they  told  me 
it  was  hardly  possible.  Took  a  fresh  horse  and  man, 
started  at  sunrise  on  Sunday,  and  reached  the  town  of 
Andorra  by  noon.  I  stayed  there  all  day,  and  the  time 
went  only  too  fast.  It  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
mountain  valleys  in  Europe.  I  was  astonished,  delighted 
— for  I  had  not  anticipated  such  wonderful  scenery. 
Then  I  had  left  the  heat  behind  me:  the  mountain  air 
was  heavenly,  the  water  cold  and  sweet,  the  people 
kind  and  friendly — in  short,  everything  was  charming. 
All  my  fatigue  left  me :  I  should  have  been  repaid  for  ten 
times  as  much.  .  .  . 

"Yesterday  I  left  the  capital  of  the  little  republic, 
travelled  through  the  whole  length  of  it,  scaled  the  crest 
of  the  Pyrenees  (7,500  feet  high)  and  came  down  to  the 
first  French  village,  or  rather,  collection  of  huts.  There 
I  spent  last  night  most  uncomfortably,  got  up  at  4  this 
morning,  and  drove  in  a  butcher's  cart  to  Ax,  where  I 
caught  the  diligence  for  Foix.  I  have  here  had  the  first 
good  meal  in  a  week,  and  expect  to  sleep  in  a  bed  without 
10,000  fleas.  It  is  a  most  picturesque  place.  .  .  . 

"I  shall  not  have  time  for  Auvergne,  but  shall  go  to 
Grenoble,  where  I  shall  probably  arrive  on  Thursday 
evening.  It  will  take  until  Sunday  night  to  see  the 
Grande  Chartreuse  and  Chateau  Bayard.  ...  I 


IN   EUROPE  181 

don't  regret  missing  Auvergne  so  much,  because  I  can 
make  an  article  on  the  Bridle-roads  of  Catalonia.  During 
the  whole  journey  I  felt  perfectly  safe,  and  was  most 
kindly  treated  everywhere.  Most  of  the  Andorrans 
spoke  some  Spanish,  so  I  could  talk  with  them.  I  shall 
always  be  glad  that  I  made  this  trip — it  has  given  me  a 
great  deal  of  fresh  and  good  material." 

For  the  months  of  July  and  August  we  had  rented  a 
villa  in  Friedrichroda  jointly  with  our  friends,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  James  Lorimer  Graham.  The  little  town,  situated 
snugly  in  a  valley  at  the  foot  of  the  Thuringian  Hills, 
had  long  been  a  favourite  and  much  frequented  summer 
resort.  Its  great  attractions  were  the  broad  shady  paths 
through  beautiful  forests  of  spruce  and  beech,  the  many 
resting-places,  and  the  easy  ascents  of  the  surrounding 
summits.  The  owners  of  our  villa,  Dr.  Keil  and  his 
wife  (the  latter  a  cousin  of  my  mother),  were  friends 
of  mine  of  long  standing,  and  they  had  thoughtfully 
provided  an  American  flag  that  greeted  us  from  on 
high  when  we  arrived  at  the  cottage  near  the  edge 
of  the  forest.  We  soon  introduced  our  friends  to  the 
family  circle  in  Gotha,  and  a  frequent  interchange  of 
visits  went  on  between  the  villa  in  Friedrichroda  and 
the  relatives  in  the  town.  Graham,  whose  active  mind 
quickly  assimilated  everything  that  interested  him, 
and  his  amiable  wife  who  shared  his  tastes,  soon  made 
themselves  beloved  in  my  old  home;  my  father  alone, 
who  laboured  so  assiduously  for  his  science,  was  unable 
to  comprehend  how  it  was  possible  for  an  intelligent 
young  man  to  live  without  engaging  in  some  serious 
occupation. 

In  August  my  husband  was  summoned  to  a  dinner 


i.82  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

at  Reinhardsbrunn.  The  Duchess  had  not  joined  her 
husband  in  their  summer  residence  this  year,  so  that 
gentlemen  only  were  invited,  and  Taylor  was  surprised  to 
find  that  all,  including  the  Duke,  wore  frock  coats  and 
grey  felt  hats.  One  of  the  few  guests  was  the  author 
Gustav  Freytag. 

He  lived  a  portion  of  the  year  in  Siebleben,  a  little 
village  near  Gotha,  where  he  owned  a  modest  country 
house.  He  had  long  been  familiar  to  me  by  sight,  al 
though  I  was  not  personally  acquainted  with  him.  I  had 
often  seen  him  at  Gotha  in  the  ducal  box  of  the  theatre. 
He  was  not  handsome;  his  features  were  irregular,  his 
hair,  pointed  beard,  and  moustache  were  sandy,  his 
figure  of  normal  height,  but  his  eyes  were  brilliant  and 
his  carriage  distinguished,  expressive  of  his  noble  char 
acter.  Such  a  man,  at  once  intellectually  gifted  and 
courtly,  was  eminently  fitted  to  be  persona  grata  with 
Duke  Ernest.  In  gratitude  for  the  favours  shown  him 
by  his  "knightly  Prince,"  Freytag  has  left  a  lasting 
tribute  to  the  latter  in  the  dedication  of  his  novel,  "  Debit 
and  Credit." 

One  of  the  happiest  events  of  that  summer  in  Friedrich- 
roda  was  a  picnic  on  the  Heuberg,  which  my  uncle, 
Staatsrath  (Councillor  of  State)  Leopold  Braun,  had 
arranged.  Some  of  the  party  went  in  carriages  by  the 
broad  highway,  others  of  us  on  foot  along  a  shady  path 
through  a  cool  dell — the  children  on  donkey-back — till 
we  all  met  on  the  summit  of  the  mountain.  Here  we 
found  our  host  and  his  three  stalwart  sons  waiting  to  lead 
us  to  the  trysting  place.  We  threaded  our  way  through 
the  mazes  of  a  beech  wood  by  a  tiny  foot-path  for  half  a 
mile  or  so,  till  we  emerged  on  a  grassy  slope  commanding 


IN   EUROPE  183 

a  wide  view  of  the  southern  spurs  of  the  Thuringian 
Forest.  The  rest  of  the  party,  some  twenty  in  number, 
were  already  assembled  in  this  idyllic  spot,  and  we  all 
rejoiced  over  the  wonderfully  beautiful  day,  the  bright 
blue  sky,  and  the  clearness  of  the  distant  panorama.  As 
if  to  add  to  the  charms  of  the  landscape,  the  rhythmic 
tinkle  of  bells  from  a  herd  of  cows  grazing  in  the  distance 
was  borne  to  our  ears.  My  uncle  proudly  showed  us  his 
improvised  wine  cellar,  in  a  hollow  under  the  sod ;  close 
by,  a  cask  of  beer  was  propped  between  two  trees  and 
cooling  under  a  packing  of  ice.  In  an  open  space  a  fire 
built  of  branches  of  fir  crackled  merrily;  when  it  was 
reduced  to  a  bed  of  coals,  the  forester  who  was  looking 
after  this  part  of  the  programme  produced  a  gridiron 
and  proceeded  to  boil  the  far-famed  bratwurste  of  Gotha, 
whose  odour  soon  brought  the  vagrant  company  strolling 
up  to  the  spot.  The  plethoric  hampers  were  emptied  of 
their  store  of  good  things,  among  which  figured  a  juicy 
roast  of  venison  whose  like  I  have  never  tasted  outside 
the  confines  of  my  native  Duchy.  After  the  repast  had 
been  consumed  to  the  accompaniment  of  merry  quip 
and  jest,  and  had  been  washed  down  with  copious  draughts 
of  John  Barleycorn  and  noble  Rhenish,  the  hours  fled 
swiftly  amid  pleasant  talk  and  song.  German  melodies 
and  Tyrolese  jodlers,  with  their  carols,  and  plaintive 
cadences,  alternated  with  Negro  plantation  songs  until 
the  shades  of  night  descended,  the  fire  was  out,  and  the 
hampers  re-packed.  On  our  way  home  a  herd  of  deer 
bounded  away  into  the  dark  forest  at  the  approach  of 
our  carriages,  and  as  we  drove  along  under  the  twinkling 
stars  the  drivers'  post-horns  woke  the  echoes  with  the 
Thuringian  melodies: 


184  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

"Steh'  ich  in  fins  tier  Mitternacht 
So  einsam  auf  der  stillen  Wacht, 
So  denk'  ich  an  mein  femes  Lieb, 
Ob  mir's  auch  treu  und  redlich  blieb."  * 
and: 

"Ach,  wie  war's  moglich  dann, 
Dass  ich  Dich  lassen  kann; 
Hab'  Dich  von  Herzen  lieb, 
Das  glaube  mir!"  f 

So  we  bowled  along  down  hill,  and  at  a  late  hour  were 
once  more  in  our  pleasant  summer  cottage. 

After  a  short  month  in  the  home  of  my  parents,  we  set 
our  faces  toward  the  south,  to  our  beautiful  and  beloved 
Italy.  Our  first  stopping  place  was  Venice,  where  we 
stayed  for  a  month  in  quarters  on  the  Riva  de'i  Schiavoni. 

I  saw  the  peerless  city  again  after  a  lapse  of  fourteen 
years,  and  found  it  much  changed — and  not  to  its  advan 
tage.  It  was  still  a  wondrous  creation,  risen  as  if  by 
enchantment  from  the  bosom  of  the  sea,  but  more  than 
ever  desolate  in  its  downfall.  The  square  of  St.  Mark's 
was  no  longer  thronged  with  a  motley  crowd,  few  were 
the  gondolas  gliding  to  and  fro  upon  the  Canal  Grande — 
that  most  glorious  waterway — the  Piazetta  and  the 
Rialto  were  deserted.  The  people  were  in  a  transition 
stage  that  is  always  hard  to  bear.  When  the  hated 
Austrian  yoke  had  been  cast  off,  they  were  left  to  shift 
for  themselves  as  free  Italians,  and  were  the  veriest  chil- 

*When  midnight  dark  is  o'er  the  land, 
And  I  on  lonely  sentry  stand, 
I  think  where  may  my  true-love  be, 
And  keeps  she  faith  and  troth  with  me. 

t  Ah,  sweet,  how  can  it  be 
That  I  must  part  from  thee, 
Whom  I  so  fondly  love, 
Believe  me,  dear!  — L.  B.  T.  K. 


IN   EUROPE  185 

dren  in  politics.  The  common  folk  alone  would  not  allow 
themselves  to  be  disturbed  in  their  dolce  far  niente.  The 
broad  expanse  of  the  Riva  before  our  windows  was  their 
playground.  Every  afternoon  the  booths  of  the  Punch- 
and-Judy  shows  were  set  up  to  attract  the  crowd. 
Women,  children,  facchini,  gondoliers,  and  soldiers 
composed  the  enthusiastic  audiences  at  these  popular 
performances.  Pedlars  of  all  sorts  circulated  freely,  vo 
ciferously  offering  for  sale  roasted  chestnuts,  baked  slices 
of  pumpkin,  and  the  dried  seeds  of  the  same  fruit,  the 
latter  being  a  dainty  which  is  consumed  in  great  quan 
tities  by  the  common  people.  For  several  days  after  our 
instalment  in  our  rooms  we  were  puzzled  by  one  of  these 
street  venders,  whose  insistent  refrain  exactly  counter 
feited  the  English  words,  "  Do  you  see  me?  do  you  see 
me?"  in  endless  reiteration.  We  finally  identified  him 
as  the  pedlar  of  this  particular  tid-bit,  and  his  cry  as 
"Chi  voul  seme?"  (Who  wants  seeds?)  Another  sun- 
browned  boy  praised  his  baked  pumpkins  to  the  tune  of 
"Che  son  belli,  belli,  belli!"  and  thus  the  lively  throng 
amused  itself  far  into  the  night. 

My  husband  concurred  in  the  opinion,  "  that  they  only 
half  see  Venice  who  see  it  from  the  water,"  and  guided 
us  here  and  there  through  the  narrow  streets  and  alleys 
of  the  city,  where  we  were  often  rewarded  by  the  unex 
pected  sight  of  striking  bits  of  Byzantine  or  Gothic  archi 
tecture,  that  filled  us  with  delight.  In  addition,  we 
feasted  our  eyes  upon  the  rich  treasures  with  which  the 
old  masters  have  rendered  beautiful  the  churches,  palaces, 
and  galleries  of  Venice.  I  recalled  much  that  I  had  seen 
before,  other  masterpieces  were  unknown  to  me,  and  a 
new  light  dawned  upon  me  in  regard  to  the  greatness  of 


1 86  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

Tintoretto,  which  I  had  not  been  able  to  grasp  in  my 
younger  years.  Just  as  youth  is  not  fit  to  cope  with 
Goethe,  so  it  had  been  with  this  great  master  of  com 
position;  his  genius  was  only  now  manifest  to  my  eyes. 

Taylor  gave  himself  up  to  still  another  pleasurable 
employment.  He  often  took  a  gondola,  and,  threading 
his  way  through  unfrequented  canals,  made  water- 
colour  sketches  either  from  the  boat  or  from  some  little 
deserted  piazzetta — pictures  that  we  brought  home  as 
precious  mementos  of  our  trip.  Unfortunately  these 
hours  in  the  sunless  waterways  exposed  him  to  the 
miasma  that  always  lurks  there,  and  we  had  hardly  said 
farewell  to  Venice  and  were  on  our  way  to  Florence, 
when  the  premonitory  symptoms  showed  themselves  of 
the  illness  that  soon  threatened  his  very  life.  With 
almost  titanic  strength  he  fought  against  his  sickness 
until  at  last  he  was  obliged  to  succumb  to  the  fever.  For 
he  considered  disease  (in  others  as  well  as  in  himself) 
unnatural,  and  therefore  disagreeable  and  repulsive. 

On  our  arrival  in  Florence  I  immediately  looked  for 
lodgings.  After  climbing  innumerable  stairs  in  a  vain 
search  for  suitable  quarters,  I  chanced  to  notice  a  marble 
tablet  above  a  gate  with  an  inscription  stating  that  in  this 
house,  the  Casa  Guidi,  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning  had 
lived  and  died!  As  my  eye  travelled  downward,  it  fell 
upon  a  notice  of  furnished  rooms  to  let  on  the  second 
floor.  Full  of  hope  I  went  in,  and  to  my  surprise  found 
the  name  of  "Mrs.  Baranowsky"  on  the  door-plate. 
She  was  the  same  woman  in  whose  house,  farther  up  the 
Via  Maggio,  Ottilie  von  Goethe  was  living  fourteen  years 
ago,  when  my  uncle  Emil  Braun  recommended  me  to 
her  care,  and  I  had  been  able  to  secure  quarters  in  the 


IN   EUROPE  187 

house  during  my  stay  in  Florence  on  my  way  to  Rome. 
She  was  an  Englishwoman  of  little  education,  but  great 
kindness  of  heart;  and  as  the  widow  of  the  sacristan  of 
the  Greek  chapel  in  Florence,  she  was  obliged  to  work 
hard  to  support  herself  and  her  daughter.  She  did  not 
remember  me,  of  course;  but  that  mattered  little.  The 
important  point  was  that  she  had  three  rooms  vacant  that 
just  suited  us,  and  into  which  we  moved  at  once.  When 
my  husband's  illness  afterward  reached  its  dangerous 
stage,  I  was  able  to  secure  the  services  of  the  eminent 
English  physician,  Dr.  Wilson,  who  had  just  returned 
from  a  vacation,  and  who  took  the  most  assiduous  care 
of  my  poor  patient.  Heaven  knows  how  my  husband 
would  ever  have  recovered  from  his  illness  without  this 
excellent  physician  and  friend!  But  he  did  recover. 
The  turning  point  of  the  disease  was  marked  by  a  strange 
dream,  which  I  will  let  him  relate  in  his  own  words.  On 
December  4th  he  wrote  to  Mrs.  Stoddard: 

"I  left  Venice  in  a  singular  condition,  composed  of 
equal  parts  of  over-excitement  and  apathy,  but  still 
suspected  nothing.  At  Bologna,  while  looking  at  a 
church,  I  suddenly  sank  down  on  the  steps  of  the  altar, 
overcome  by  weakness.  Chills  and  violent  fever  suc 
ceeded,  and  I  had  just  time  to  reach  Florence  and  get 
into  quarters  in  the  Casa  Guidi,  when  I  was  thrown  on 
my  back.  For  one  whole  month  I  have  been  lost  to  the 
outside  world,  have  been  nigh  unto  death,  and  have  only 
recovered  enough  to  write  to  you,  by  what  seems  a 
miracle. 

"  I  had  a  physician  at  the  start  who  mistook  my  case, 
and  would  have  killed  me  in  a  few  days  more,  if  he  had 
not  left  for  Rome.  .  .  .  Finally,  in  the  nick  of  time,  the 
English  physician  here,  who  had  been  absent,  returned. 


i88  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

.  .  .  I  pass  over  the  days  of  prostration  and  nights 
of  delirium — poor  Marie,  my  only  nurse,  can  tell  about 
them.  In  a  week  more  I  began  to  rally,  but  so  very  slowly 
that  I  was  discouraged:  there  seemed  no  prospect  of 
health  before  January.  All  at  once,  I  seemed  to  turn  a 
corner,  and  from  one  day  to  another  I  shot  into  health 
and  strength  by  seven-league  leaps.  It  is  wonderful, 
and  astonishes  everybody.  Ten  days  ago  I  was  in  bed, 
unable  to  do  anything  for  myself:  now,  I  get  up  at  the 
usual  hour,  eat  voraciously,  read,  write,  walk  out  in  the 
streets,  take  my  cigar  after  dinner,  and  only  lack  a  little 
more  strength  to  be  perfectly  my  old  self.  .  .  . 

"  I  must  tell  you  one  curious  feature  of  my  illness.  .  .  . 
At  first,  my  brain  was  in  a  state  of  excitement  which 
made  my  nights  tortures.  For  instance,  I  was  under  a 
spell  to  work:  the  first  night  I  was  forced  to  copy  all  of 
Giotto's  frescoes  from  the  chapel  at  Padua;  the  second 
night,  all  the  pictures  in  the  Academy  at  Bologna;  the 
third  night,  to  draw  vistas  of  every  street  in  Florence, 
and  so  on,  for  about  eight  nights,  till  I  was  nearly  insane 
from  imagined  fatigue.  On  the  eighth  or  ninth  night,  no 
task  was  set  me,  but  I  saw  a  number  of  pale,  shadowy 
Italian  women.  Then  Mrs.  Browning  (who  lived  and 
died  in  this  very  Casa  Guidi)  rose  up,  a  thin,  faint  spectre, 
and  said  to  the  women :  '  He  is  to  work  no  more :  he  must 
rest  now:  make  everything  smooth  and  soft  for  him.' 
Then  the  women  made  a  sort  of  couch  of  planks,  but  their 
touch  made  it  soft  and  refreshing,  and  I  lay  upon  it  and 
rested  with  an  indescribable  sense  of  peace,  and  the  fever- 
tasks  ceased  from  that  night.  Was  it  not  a  little  strange? " 

This  mystic  vision  was  embodied  by  Bayard  Taylor  in 
his  poem,  "Casa  Guidi  Windows,"  which  he  afterward 
sent  to  Browning. 

Passing  by  Rome — my  dearly  beloved  Rome — on  the 
steel  rails  that  seemed  to  me  like  a  profanation,  we 


IN   EUROPE  189 

reached  Naples,  which  neither  of  us  had  ever  seen  before, 
about  January  ist.  We  established  ourselves  in  some 
rooms  on  the  Quai  Santa  Lucia,  in  a  house  whose 
windows  looked  out  upon  the  beautiful  bay.  To  the 
right,  projecting  into  the  blue  waters,  loomed  the  Castello 
dell*  Uovo,  whose  gloomy  battlements  recall  to  the  Ger 
mans  sombre  memories  of  the  fate  of  the  Hohenstauffens.* 
Directly  across  the  bay  rose  the  massive  summit  of 
Vesuvius,  whose  eruptive  forces  were  just  then  in  activity. 
At  night,  after  we  had  sought  our  beds  and  without 
moving  from  the  pillow,  we  could  see  the  bursts  of  fiery 
rain,  the  dull  red  glow  of  the  smoke,  and  the  stream  of 
incandescent  lava  flowing  down  the  mountain  side.  Like 
so  many  others,  we  also  made  the  ascent  of  Vesuvius  as 
far  as  the  observatory,  and  looked  upon  the  wild  devasta 
tion  the  mountain  had  wrought.  But  much  more  enjoy 
able  and  richer  in  beautiful  memories  were  our  excursions 
from  Posilippo  to  Cape  Misenum,  and  along  the  Bay  of 
Parthenopis  to  Herculaneum  and  Pompeii.  He  who 
cannot  here  drink  deep  of  the  imperishable  fount  of 
beauty  was  surely  never  a  favourite  of  Pan  and  Apollo. 
We  left  Naples  sooner  than  we  had  intended.  Even 
there  the  east  wind  was  raw,  and  caused  my  husband, 
who  still  needed  to  take  care  of  himself,  unpleasant  sensa 
tions  in  the  lungs,  so  we  migrated  to  Sorrento,  on  the  shel 
tered  side  of  the  bay.  Its  stone  houses,  built  upon  the 
sunny  bluff,  and  embedded  in  the  dark  foliage  of  orange 
trees,  command  a  panoramic  view  that  has  not  its  equal 
in  the  world,  and  at  their  feet  the  waters  of  the  bay  ripple 

*  "After  the  disastrous  battle  of  Beneventum,  in  which  King  Manfred 
lost  his  life  (i  266), his  wife  and  young  daughter  Beatrix  were  imprisoned 
in  this  fortress.  The  latter  languished  there  for  eighteen  years,  until  she 
was  liberated  after  the  Sicilian  Vespers,  1284." — Ferdinand  Gregorovius. 


1 90  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

in  wonderful  blue  and  purple  tones.  In  the  Piano  di 
Sorrento  we  found  an  out-of-the-way,  quiet  inn  called 
the  ''Cocumella,"  the  "Melon,"  where  we  occupied  sev 
eral  rooms  that  opened  upon  a  large  stone  terrace  built 
high  above  the  sea. 

We  were  so  well  taken  care  of  in  this  inn  that  we 
remained  there  at  our  ease  till  toward  the  middle  of 
March.  We  explored  the  country  round  about,  where 
Nature  has  scattered  her  fairest  gifts  with  lavish  hand; 
our  hours  of  rest  were  passed  upon  the  terrace,  overlooking 
a  paradise  of  beauty,  in  quiet  meditation  that  was  most 
beneficial  to  my  husband,  inasmuch  as  he  had  not  yet 
recovered  his  full  measure  of  health.  Our  little  daugh 
ter,  who  had  been  without  a  playmate  since  we  left 
Florence,  enlivened  the  loneliness  of  her  life  in  an  original 
fashion.  Leaning  over  the  parapet  of  the  terrace  (which 
was  constructed  at  the  level  of  our  second-story  rooms) 
she  struck  up  an  acquaintance  with  the  children  of  a 
neighbouring  contadino,  who  played  beneath  the  high 
wall,  with  the  result  that  a  trade  of  playthings  was  ar 
ranged  ;  she  let  down  her  dolls  at  the  end  of  a  string,  and 
received  in  exchange  the  toy  pitchers  and  dishes  of  the 
peasant  ragozzette  below.  When  we  climbed  down  through 
the  rock  passage  from  our  bluff  three  hundred  feet  in 
height  to  the  little  beach,  that  was  accessible  only  from 
the  "Cocumella,"  she  hunted  for  shells  and  bright- 
coloured  pebbles  washed  by  the  waves  upon  the  shingle. 
The  latter  afterward  turned  out  to  be  bits  of  precious 
marbles  and  porphyry,  the  broken  remnants  of  princely 
Roman  villas  that  once  had  graced  these  shores,  and 
which  had  been  the  playthings  of  the  waves  for  upward 
of  fifteen  hundred  years.  Their  varied  tints  pleased  the 


IN   EUROPE  191 

child's  fancy,  and  she  built  with  them  a  structure  upon 
the  terrace  that  roused  my  curiosity.  "It  is  an  altar  to 
the  Madonna,"  was  her  answer  to  my  question.  "A  Chris 
tian  edifice  at  all  events,"  thought  I,  for  I  remembered  that 
no  longer  ago  than  the  spring  before,  when  she  received 
her  first  lessons  in  ancient  Greek  history,  she  had  built 
a  similar  altar  to  Jupiter  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Leman. 

From  Sorrento  we  journeyed  to  Rome.  But  it  was  no 
longer  my  Rome,  that  I  had  left  twelve  years  before. 
The  temporal  power  of  the  Pope  had  fallen  into  the  sere 
and  yellow  leaf.  Italy  had  arisen  south  and  north,  and 
the  effect  of  the  change  was  unmistakable.  In  spite  of  the 
still  existing  power  of  the  priesthood,  foreign  elements 
had  crept  in;  a  greater  number  of  visitors  from  other 
countries  was  evident  and  the  classical  character  of  the 
city  had  disappeared  more  and  more.  To  add  to  the 
discrepancy,  our  present  lodging  was  not  in  the  ancient 
Rome,  but  far  removed  from  the  Capitol  and  the  Casa 
Tarpeia.  Our  rooms  were  in  the  foreign  quarter  near  the 
Spanish  Stairs,  and  shut  in  by  houses  on  all  sides.  I 
visited  the  Casa  Tarpeia  but  once,  where  Herr  and  Frau 
Henzen  had  occupied  these  many  years  the  apartments 
in  which  I  had  formerly  been  at  home.  I  showed  my 
husband  the  glorious  view  that  delights  the  eye  from  its 
loggia,  and  which  elicited  his  admiration  in  the  fullest 
measure.  My  acquaintances  of  earlier  days  had  almost 
all  departed.  On  the  other  hand,  we  were  soon  drawn 
against  our  wish  into  a  vortex  of  social  engagements  by 
the  presence  in  Rome  of  numerous  Americans,  so  that 
Taylor,  in  jest,  regretted  that  he  could  no  longer  use  his 
convalescence  as  an  excuse  for  avoiding  the  many  invita 
tions  extended  to  us.  Simultaneously  the  art  life  that 


192  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

is  so  evident  everywhere  in  Rome  seemed  to  infect  my 
husband,  for  one  day  he  informed  me  that  he  had  rented 
a  studio  next  door  to  that  of  his  friend,  the  painter  Yewell, 
and  that  he  intended  to  attempt  the  human  figure.  In  a 
letter  to  a  friend  he  thus  expressed  himself : 

"  Here,  where  models  are  plentiful  and  color  is  part  of 
the  atmosphere,  I  have  taken  a  little  studio  for  two 
months,  and  paint  three  or  four  hours  every  day  from  the 
living  figure.  The  studio  is  strictly  private ;  I  tell  nobody 
where  it  is,  and  hence  many  would  like  to  know.  My 
beginnings  were  in  the  style  of  the  early  Christian  mosaics, 
but  I  have  already  advanced  about  five  centuries  since 
then,  and  am  now  painting  in  the  style  of  the  Venetian 
generation  before  Titian.  I  don't  presume  to  hope  that  I 
could  ever  be  mistaken  for  one  of  the  contemporaries  of 
the  latter,  but,  with  time,  I  might  skip  over  the  inter 
vening  centuries  and  emulate  such  moderns  as  ... 
and  .  .  ."* 

Crude  as  these  studies  were,  the  hours  that  he  thus 
passed  were  a  source  of  decided  enjoyment  to  Taylor. 
Two  water-colour  sketches  of  female  figures  in  the  beauti 
ful  costume  of  Albano  were  quite  successful,  but  as  regards 
the  nude  his  characterisation  and  ridicule  of  his  own 
work  in  that  letter  were  justified. 

Although  my  husband,  like  myself,  felt  inspired  by 
and  joined  me  in  admiration  of  the  superabundant  treas 
ures  of  Rome,  yet  he  was  far  from  falling  under  the  spell 
of  the  enchantress.  Sometimes  it  almost  seemed  to  me 
as  if  he  did  not  give  the  Eternal  City  her  full  due;  but 
our  little  discussions  on  this  point  failed  to  convince  him. 
And  from  his  point  of  view  he  was  correct.  He  wrote 
to  his  friend  Stedman : 

*"Life  and  Letters  of  Bayard  Taylor,"  page  491. 


IN   EUROPE  193 

"  I  want  to  work,  I  am  bursting  with  fresh  plans,  and 
this  delightful  atmosphere  is  like  a  narcotic  which  be 
numbs  one's  executive  faculties  while  stimulating  the 
imagination.  The  past  is  too  powerful  here:  it  draws 
us  constantly  away  from  the  work  intended  for  us.  A 
singular  indifference  to  the  movements  of  this  present 
and  grand  world  creeps  over  us,  and  we  end  by  becoming 
idle,  Epicurean  dreamers.  I  am  satisfied  that  Rome  is 
no  place  for  a  poet,  however  it  may  be  with  artists."  * 

At  the  end  of  May  we  returned  to  Florence,  whence  I 
accompanied  my  husband  on  the  trip  to  Corsica  and  the 
little  isle  of  Maddalena,  opposite  Caprera,  which  he 
described  in  "  By-ways  of  Europe."  Vexatious  as  was 
Garibaldi's  refusal  to  receive  Bayard  Taylor,  who  came 
with  letters  of  recommendation  from  our  Minister,  Mr. 
Marsh  and  Madame  Mario — both  friends  of  long  standing 
— yet  our  enforced  stay  on  the  barren  islet  was  of  a  char 
acter  so  unique  that  we  would  not  willingly  have  missed 
the  experience.  After  we  had  passed  several  days  of 
exile  among  the  fisher  folk  and  in  the  most  primitive  of 
inns,  the  steamer,  returning  from  Sardinia,  cast  anchor 
and  took  us  aboard. 

Taylor's  two  sponsors  to  Garibaldi  were  very  much 
annoyed  when  they  learned  of  the  result  of  our  trip. 
Some  time  after  he  received  the  following  letter  from 
Madame  Mario,  an  Englishwoman  by  birth : 

"  LENDINARA,  Provincia  di  Rovigo,  Veneto, 

August  ipth. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Taylor:  You  will  have  wondered  at  my 
silence.  First  I  have  been  ill,  then  I  awaited  some  satis 
factory  explanation  from  G (of  justification  no 

chance,  of  course). 

*  "Life  and  Letters  of  Bayard  Taylor,"  page  491. 


194  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

"I  wrote  to  him — here  is  his  reply: 

"Dearest  sister:  With  a  dose  of  misanthropy  that 
unfortunately  grows  with  years  and  disenchantments, 
do  you  believe  that  a  man  can  spend  his  life  receiving 
visits  every  day,  and  the  remainder  of  his  time  answering 
letters  from  people  whom  he  does  not  know?  Add  to 
this  that  I  was  suffering  damnably  on  the  day  of  Mr. 
Taylor's  arrival  at  the  Maddalena. 

"'This  will  explain  to  you,  dear  sister,  the  reason  why  I 
did  not  receive  the  gentleman  recommended  by  you  and 
Mr.  Marsh — two  recommendations  that  could  not  be 
surpassed  by  anyone.' 

"To  that  I  replied,  'If  you  had  informed  your  friends 
of  this  new  and  laudable  resolve  you  would  have  spared 
them  considerable  mortification  and  their  friends  con 
siderable  loss  of  time  and  fatigue.' 

"  I  find  that  he  acted  in  a  similar  manner  to  a  German 
professor  who  had  come  from  Vienna  to  see  him !  Aspro- 
monte  lamed  him,  Mentana  has  broken  his  heart.  Mea 
col  pa  is  a  bitter  lesson.  Had  he  listened  to  his  true 
friends  he  might  have  entered  Rome — have  died  there 
at  least.  I  am  grieved  to  my  soul  for  him.  .  .  . 

"Present  our  best  regards  to  Mrs.  Taylor,  and 
"  Believe  me, 

"Very  truly  yours, 

"JESSIE  WHITE  MARIO." 

And  so  the  matter  ended. 

We  spent  the  summer,  with  some  short  interruptions, 
in  my  parents'  home,  where  my  sister  from  Russia  and 
her  five  children  had  arrived  some  time  before  ourselves. 
My  self-sacrificing  mother,  in  spite  of  her  continued  deli 
cate  health,  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  forego  her 
hospitable  inclinations,  and  harboured  the  many  guests 
who  celebrated  a  reunion  in  the  old  home  during  that 
summer.  My  father,  on  the  contrary,  abated  nothing 


IN  EUROPE  195 

of  his  incessant  work,  although  in  his  short  hours  of  rest 
he  openly  displayed  his  pleasure  in  the  vivacity  that  chil 
dren  and  grandchildren  brought  into  his  quiet  daily  life. 

During  these  summer  months  my  husband  had  not 
failed  to  make  further  studies  for  the  continuation  of  his 
translation  of  "Faust,"  and  for  the  short  commentary 
which  he  projected.  The  poem,  "An  Goethe,"  with 
which  he  dedicated  his  translation  to  the  memory  of  the 
great  master,  was  also  conceived  about  this  time.  After 
he  had  written  down  the  German  poem  he  submitted  it  to 
Gustav  Freytag  for  criticism,  and  the  latter  pronounced 
that  it  had  been  cast  in  a  single  mould  of  true  German 
spirit  and  German  feeling  and  needed  no  improvement. 

The  "Dedication"  was,  however,  not  the  only  fruit 
that  his  poetic  powers  had  brought  forth  since  his  re 
covery  from  illness.  In  the  winter,  among  other  short 
poems,  he  had  written  two  Corsican  ballads,  based  on  the 
traditions  of  the  people.  The  first,  "Orso's  Vendetta/* 
gave  him  much  trouble.  Twice  he  wrote  it  in  different 
metre,  and  then,  as  the  form  did  not  satisfy  him,  cast 
it  aside.  The  other  ballad  also,  "Fidelio,"  was  not 
included  in  his  collected  poems.  A  third  poem  of  this 
half -convalescent  period,  "The  Ruined  Garden,"  found 
favour  in  his  eyes  only  after  he  had  completely  rewritten 
it,  and  this  he  published  under  the  title  "Run  Wild." 
But  in  June,  when  he  returned  to  Gotha,  visibly  refreshed 
from  an  excursion  to  the  Teutoburger  Forest,  the  full 
strength  of  his  creative  faculty  again  manifested  itself, 
and  as  "  the  result  of  a  mood ' '  the  poem  "  The  Sunshine  of 
the  Gods  "  irradiated  his  imagination.  After  quickly  com 
mitting  it  to  paper,  the  poet  later  revised  it  repeatedly, 
but  he  altered  it  very  little,  as  he  did  not  venture  to 


1 96  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

touch  it  in  a  cooler  mood — a  procedure  of  which  James  T. 
Fields,  his  friend  and  publisher,  approved.  The  latter 
declared  the  poem  too  good  to  need  any  after-filing. 

He  wrote  also  another  poem,  bearing  an  intimate 
relation  to  the  preceding  one — "Notus  Ignoto."  He 
called  it  "one  of  the  very  darlings  of  my  brain."  It 
saw  light  on  the  last  evening  of  the  old  year,  and  the 
first  day  of  the  new,  1868-69.  The  poet  liked  it  better 
than  its  predecessor,  but  Fields  disagreed  with  him,  and 
it  was  probably  owing  to  the  stern  criticism  of  this 
friend  that  Taylor,  before  placing  it  among  his  collected 
poems,  rewrote  it  in  another  metre,  and  thus  gave  it  the 
melodious  swift-footed  dithyrambic  cadence  in  which 
the  inward  thought  and  the  outward  form  are  gracefully 
blended.  It  is  not  improbable  that  he  conceived  the 
idea  of  the  poem  while  reading  Goethe's  "  Seasons," 
for  in  later  years  I  found  the  following  stanzas  marked 
in  his  volume  of  Goethe's  poems,  given  him  in  1868  by 
Berthold  Auerbach: 

"Selbst  erfinden  ist  schon;  doch  glucklich  von  Andern 

Gefundenes 
Frohlich  erkannt  und  geschatzt,  nennst  Du  das  weniger 

dein? 

i 
"Wer  ist  der  gliicklichste  Mensch?     Der  fremdes  Ver- 

dienst  zu  empfinden 
Weiss  und  am  fremden  Genuss  sich  wie  am  eignen  zu 

freuen."  * 

*  To  invent  is  grand ;  but  happy  inventions  of  others 
Grasped  and  esteemed  at  their  worth,  are  these  not  equally  thine? 

Which  is  the  happiest  mortal?     He  that  another  man's  merit 
Sees  and  another  man's  joy  feels  as  though  'twere  his  own. 

L.  B.  T.  K. 


IN   EUROPE  197 

It  seemed  as  if  a  new  spirit  was  animating  Bayard 
Taylor  in  those  days.  In  later  years,  toward  the  end 
of  his  life,  he  said  to  me  one  day  that  after  his  illness  in 
Florence  he  had  felt  as  if  a  board  had  been  suddenly 
removed  from  his  brain,  and  that  thenceforth  thoughts 
had  been  vouchsafed  to  his  mind  as  never  before.  This 
progress  in  his  spiritual  growth  had,  however,  been  going 
forward  unheeded  for  several  years  past.  It  became 
apparent  to  him  only  upon  his  complete  recovery  from 
serious  illness,  when  his  long  withheld  strength  returned 
to  him.  In  the  previous  year  Taylor  had  already  touched 
upon  this  phase  of  his  intellectual  career  in  a  letter  to  an 
old  friend: 

"My  studies  now  are  changed  from  what  they  once 
were.  I  read  first  of  all  Goethe,  then  Montaigne,  Burton, 
Mill,  Buckle,  Matthew  Arnold,  and  the  old  English  poets ; 
of  the  modern  chiefly  Wordsworth,  Tennyson  and  Clough. 
Ruskin  and  Carlyle  serve  as  entrees.  I  abhor  everything 
spasmodic  and  sensational  and  aim  at  the  purest,  sim 
plest,  quietest  style  in  whatever  I  write."  * 

But  the  time  had  come  when  the  fruit  was  ready  for  the 
harvest. 

*  "Life  and  Letters  of  Bayard  Taylor,"  page  459. 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  TRANSLATION  OF  "FAUST" 

WHEN  we  settled  down  again  in  "Cedarcroft"  in  the 
early  part  of  September  Taylor  brought  home  some 
fifty  oil  and  water-colour  sketches,  and  a  large  number 
of  books  that  he  needed  for  his  study  of  Goethe.  He 
had  besides  the  joyful  prospect  of  being  able  to  devote 
himself  during  the  coming  year  to  the  work  that  lay 
nearest  his  heart.  This  was  first  and  foremost  the  inter 
rupted  translation  of  Goethe's  masterpiece — "Faust.'* 
Consequently  we  arranged  to  spend  the  winter  in  "  Cedar- 
croft,"  and  I  took  particular  care  that  my  husband's 
immediate  surroundings  should  be  as  pleasing  and  com 
fortable  as  possible.  The  library  where  he  worked  was  a 
large,  high-ceiled  room  papered  with  a  dark  crimson 
velvet  wall  paper.  In  a  capacious  fireplace,  with  a 
mantel  of  black,  yellow-veined  marble,  bright  brass 
andirons  supported  the  great  logs  that  were  lighted  on 
cool  evenings  or  cold  days,  giving  forth  a  grateful  warmth. 
The  walls  were  lined  with  book  shelves  of  black  walnut, 
in  accordance  with  the  heavy  doors  and  window  frames 
constructed  of  the  same  wood.  Two  high  south  windows 
and  a  three-sided  bay,  toward  the  west,  let  in  an  abun 
dance  of  light.  Near  the  centre  of  the  room  stood  my 
husband's  spacious  black  walnut,  flat-topped  writing 
desk,  a  present  from  his  friend  Lorimer  Graham.  Plaster 
casts  of  antique  busts  and  figurines,  as  well  as  a  few  real 

198 


THE  TRANSLATION   OF   "FAUST"          199 

antiques,  crowned  the  book  shelves  or  rested  on  pro 
jecting  ledges.  In  one  corner  the  Venus  of  Melos  stood 
upon  a  pedestal,  and  opposite  that  was  a  copy  of  Trippel's 
bust  of  Goethe.  Several  generous  armchairs  and  a 
yielding  couch  invited  the  inmates  to  rest  or  lounge  at 
ease;  books,  magazines  and  photographs  were  placed  on 
convenient  tables.  When  the  poet  looked  up  from  his 
work  his  eye  rested  upon  plants  and  flowers  blooming 
in  the  small  conservatory  connected  with  the  library  by 
a  glass  door ;  did  he  direct  his  gaze  westward  at  evening, 
he  saw  the  golden  setting  sun  sink  in  fiery  splendour 
behind  our  "immemorial  chestnuts."  During  the  day 
the  peacock  was  wont  to  sit  upon  the  window  ledge 
behind  my  husband's  back,  apparently  absorbed  in  the 
contemplation  of  his  master,  but  in  reality  enjoying  the 
reflection  of  his  own  image  in  the  mirror  of  the  window 
pane. 

A  short,  unavoidable  interruption  of  my  husband's 
work  occurred  when  we  celebrated  the  golden  wedding  of 
his  parents,  in  which  not  only  all  the  branches  of  the 
large  family,  with  the  exception  of  the  Swiss  contingent, 
but  also  a  number  of  friends  from  far  and  near  took  part. 
My  husband  composed  a  little  masque  for  the  occasion  as  a 
surprise  for  the  aged  bride  and  groom,  the  third  successive 
couple  in  the  family  to  celebrate  their  fiftieth  anniversary. 
We  entertained  over  two  hundred  guests  on  this  occasion, 
and  those  who  came  from  a  distance  stayed  with  us  for  a 
longer  period. 

After  this  pause  "Faust"  took  possession  of  my 
husband's  mind  more  and  more.  The  infinite  pains 
with  which  he  endeavoured  to  do  justice  to  the  work  of 
the  great  master  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact,  for  in- 


200  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

stance,  that  he  made  innumerable  drafts  of  the  "Song 
of  the  Spirits," 

"Vanish,  ye  darkling 
Arches  above  him!" 

before  he  was  satisfied  with  the  English  rendering.  In 
his  note  he  says  it  was  "  a  head  and  heart  breaking  task." 
According  to  my  memoranda  he  read  the  beginning  of 
the  "Walpurgis  Night"  to  me  on  December  i4th,  and 
the  remainder  on  Christmas  day.  The  following  day  he 
translated  the  "Intermezzo,"  and  on  January  4th he  was 
able  to  show  me  the  translation  of  the  whole  first  scene 
of  the  Second  Part.  Thenceforward  he  continued  without 
interruption  to  the  end.  In  the  evening,  when  his  task 
was  done,  he  read  to  me  what  he  had  translated  during 
the  day,  and  I  followed  with  the  original  before  my  eyes. 
When  he  was  occupied  toward  the  end  of  March  with 
the  third  act,  the  rendering  of  which  fascinated  him 
extremely,  he  remarked  in  a  letter  to  E.  C.  Stedman: 

"  I  am  deep  in  the  Helena,  and  the  one-toothed  Phorkyas 
looks  over  my  shoulder  as  I  write.  My  translation  gets 
more  literal,  and  yet  more  perfectly  rythmical  as  I 
advance.  I  begin  to  see  daylight  glimmering  through 
the  further  end  of  the  tunnel." 

On  May  i3th  I  made  a  note:  "Taylor  has  now  reached 
the  mystic  portion  of  the  Second  Part,  which  gives  him 
much  trouble."  By  the  middle  of  the  month  he  read  the 
final  scene  to  me,  and  the  great  work  was  accomplished, 
exclusive  of  the  last  revision  and  the  explanatory  Notes. 

Although  the  great  task  now  rested  for  a  while,  there 
was  no  respite  for  the  man  of  the  pen.  While  he  trans- 


THE  TRANSLATION   OF   "FAUST"         201 

scribed  the  immortal  poetry  and  high  thoughts  of  the 
German  poet  into  his  native  tongue,  his  mind  was  open  to 
the  whispers  of  his  own  Muse,  and  to  her  commands.  I 
have  already  mentioned  the  fact  that  he  wrote  a  poem, 
"Notus  Ignoto,"  at  the  turn  of  the  year,  in  the  midst  of 
his  work  on  "Faust";  it  was  followed  by  two  of  the 
"Pennsylvania  Ballads,"*  the  first  of  which,  "The 
Quaker  Widow,"  he  had  written  years  before.  The 
ballad  "Napoleon  at  Gotha"f  also  saw  the  light  during 
January.  Then,  in  the  middle  of  summer,  when  the  ener 
vating  heat  of  the  dog  days  sapped  the  poet's  strength 
for  concentrated  work,  Taylor  composed  the  beautiful 
"August  Pastoral"  in  imaginative  mood,  where  he  sang: 

"Dead  is  the  air,  and  still!  the  leaves  of  the  locust 
and  walnut 

Lazily  hang  from  the  boughs,  inlaying  their  intri 
cate  outlines 

Rather  on  space  than  the  sky, — on  a  tideless  ex 
pansion  of  slumber. 

Faintly  afar  in  the  depths  of  the  duskily  withering 
grasses 

Katydids  chirp,  and  I  hear  the  monotonous  rattle 
of  crickets. 

Dead  is  the  air,  and  ah!  the  breath  that  was  wont 
to  refresh  me 

Out  of  the  volumes  I  love,  the  heartful,  whispering 
pages, 

Dies  on  the  type,  and  I  see  but  wearisome  characters 
only. 

Therefore  be  still,  thou  yearning  voice  from  the 
garden  in  Jena, — 

*"The  Pennsylvania  Farmer"  and  "The  Holly  Tree." 

fThis  incident  actually  occurred.     The  youth  was  my  great-uncle, 
Wilhelm  Xaver  von  Braun. 


202  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

Still,  thou  answering  voice  from  the  park-side  cot 
tage  in  Weimar, — 

Still,  sentimental  echo  from  chambers  of  office  in 
Dresden,— 

Ye,  and  the  feebler  and  farther  voices  that  sound  in 
the  pauses! 

Each  and  all  to  the  shelves  I  return :  for  vain  is  your 
commerce 

Now,  when  the  world  and  the  brain  are  numb  in 
the  torpor  of  August." 

This  idyll  was  followed  later  (not  intentionally  at 
first)  by  two  others— " May"  and  " November."  Two 
years  afterward,  when  Taylor  collected  his  poems  of  the 
last  decade,  he  added  a  Prologue  and  an  Epilogue  and 
called  the  cycle  "Home  Pastorals."  For  the  trilogy 
sang  of  his  native  heath,  of  its  character  and  of  the 
atmosphere  that  he  had  created  there.  In  1875,  when 
the  volume  was  to  be  published,  the  poet  changed  the 
close  of  the  "November  Pastoral*'  by  embodying  in 
the  last  stanza  the  subject  idea  of  another  poem.  The 
latter  has  never  been  published.  It  reads  thus: 

THE    HAND 

The  lingering  winter  in  the  woodland  roars, 
And  o'er  its  edge  the  yellow  evening  light 
Is  chill  and  sad :  come,  feed  the  dying  flame ! 
Pile  splintered  hickory  on  the  embers ;  draw 
The  cork  that  prisons  summer's  liquid  soul, 
And  while,  defying  Nature's  threat,  we  quaff 
Her  pilfered  sunshine,  lay  your  hand  in  mine! 
Thus  have  I  warmth  that  from  without  me  sends 
A  glow  within,  and  wakes  that  life  too  dull, 
Too  slack  from  weary  days,  to  feed  itself 


THE  TRANSLATION   OF   "FAUST"         203 

As  once,  from  superfluities  of  youth. 

But  from  the  touch  of  other  hands  I  take 

A  soft  mysterious  quickening  of  the  blood, 

The  thrill  of  delicate  currents  freshly  loosed, 

That  seem  as  if  the  body  yet  awake 

The  fancy's  play,  and  lift  the  lids  of  dreams. 

And  yours  is  of  the  south ;  your  pulse  on  mine, 

Here,  in  the  twilight,  calls  Pompeiian  forms, 

The  floating  Hours,  Medea's  trance  of  wrath, 

And  Chiron  with  the  plectrum  and  the  lyre ; 

Or  sunburnt  marbles,  drums  of  Doric  shafts, 

And  broken  triglyphs,  such  as  heap  the  floor 

To  Pallas  sacred ;  or  the  shimmering  walls 

Of  desert  by  the  warm  Arabian  sea. 

All  these  I  summon,  while  the  frost  without 

Stiffens  the  spongy  soil,  and  April  moans 

From  some  dim  place  of  exile  in  the  air. 

Still  further  let  me  dream ;  beyond  the  shores 

We  know,  beyond  that  dark-blue,  dimpled  sea, 

Lie  sands  and  palms,  the  Nile's  wide  wealth  of  corn, 

And  dark-red  pylons,  granite  roofs  upheld 

By  old  Osirid  columns :  there  the  sun 

Sheds  broader  peace  in  all  his  aged  beams, 

And  hoary  splendor  on  uncrumbled  stone. 

Who  breathes  that  air  returns  not  as  he  went, 

dipt  in  the  scant  horizon  of  his  day, 

The  slave  of  Time ;  but,  stretching  back  thro'  all 

The  thousand  cycles  of  victorious  growth 

To  primal  powers  and  passions,  plants  his  life 

At  the  warm  world-beat  of  the  heart  of  Man, 

And  makes  his  home  in  all  humanity. 

Yet  in  this  freedom  we  detach  ourselves 

From  keener  interests,  closer  sympathies, 

That  shape  the  narrow  features  of  our  time, — 

Save,  grasping  both  with  double  arms  of  life, 

And  setting  one  firm  foot  in  either  world, 

We  stand,  as  stood  the  Masters.     This  your  hope, 


204  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

Though  voiceless,  reaches  me,  whose  office  is 
To  give  it  voice ;  and  now  the  swifter  pulse 
In  all  my  frame  proclaims  the  soul  awake, 
And  lithe  again  the  muscles  of  my  thought. 
So,  let  the  darkness  fall ;  the  season  holds 
No  power  to  seal  the  fountains  of  our  strength ; 
The  nerves  that  tremble  to  the  wilful  air 
And  make  us  vassals  to  the  Moment,  crouch 
At  the  calm  bidding  of  the  sovereign  mind. 

Shortly  before  Bayard  Taylor  wrote  the  first  of  his 
idylls  he  made  the  assertion  that  American  poets  and 
artists  did  not  need  to  draw  their  themes  and  motives 
from  abroad,  as  there  was  a  wealth  of  material  ready  for 
them  at  home  in  their  own  country.  In  the  "Home 
Pastorals"  he  furnished  a  proof  of  this  assertion  by 
elevating  every-day  matters  into  the  realm  of  poesy. 

As  Taylor  read  "  Hermann  und  Dorothea"  anew  in  the 
summer  of  1869,  while  preparing  his  Notes  for  "Faust," 
it  is  probable  that  the  poem  influenced  him  in  the  choice 
of  the  hexametre  for  the  measure  of  the  "Pastorals"; 
Gregorovius'*  "  Euphorion"  and  the  "Amours  de  Voyage" 
of  Cloughf  had  prepossessed  him  in  its  favour;  the  smooth 
and  melodious  verses  of  the  latter  had  shown  him  the 
capabilities  of  the  English  tongue  in  this  respect.  His 
friends  of  the  literary  guild  did  not  share  his  taste  for 
the  classic  metre.  Emerson  alone  "wondered  whether 
Clough  had  risen  again  and  was  pouring  rich  English 
hexametres  "  until  he  "  guessed  the  singer  without  external 
hint  of  any  kind,  only  by  the  wide  travel."  These  idylls 
never  caught  the  popular  fancy,  however — a  fact  that 

*  Ferdinand  Gregorovius,  the  German  author. 

f  Arthur  Hugh  Clough,  the  English  poet,  1819-1861. 


THE  TRANSLATION   OF   "FAUST"          205 

mattered  little  to  the  author.  He  felt  that  since  a  new 
epoch  of  his  creative  faculty  had  dawned  he  had  lost  his 
former  audience,  and  that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to 
win  a  different  class  of  readers.  He  therefore  did  not 
suffer  himself  to  doubt  his  ideals,  but  rather  followed  his 
higher  aspiration  more  assiduously. 

I  return  to  the  spring  of  1869.  On  Easter  Sunday  I 
wrote  to  my  mother:  " The  birds  have  come  back;  blue 
birds,  robins,  yellow  piroles,  brown  thrushes,  and  scarlet 
finches  are  here  in  flocks,  singing  and  warbling  all  day 
long.  The  woodpeckers  are  hammering  in  the  old  walnut 
trees,  and  to-day  I  heard  the  wild  dove's  plaintive  note 
in  our  wood.  The  frogs,  too,  are  piping  merrily."  It 
was  a  beautiful  spring  that  set  in  earlier  than  usual, 
and  covered  the  country  with  a  garment  of  the  freshest 
green.  A  laburnum  that  we  had  planted  as  a  reminder  of 
Germany  bore  its  first  blossoms,  the  ma'gnolias  below  the 
terrace  were  bedecked  with  snowy  flowers,  and  the  most 
luxuriant  foliage  gave  a  dense  shade.  In  May  we  could 
sit  upon  the  veranda  till  nine  o'clock  at  night  enjoying 
the  balmy  moonlight,  and  in  June  we  armed  ourselves 
with  fans,  fleeing  to  the  terrace  after  supper  in  search 
of  cooling  breezes.  As  soon  as  we  had  established  our 
selves  upon  the  steps  leading  to  the  lower  level,  an  old 
acquaintance  of  ours,  an  enormous  toad  who  lived  under 
the  granite  foundation-stone  of  the  bay  window,  joined  us. 
It  was  so  tame  that  it  came  up  close,  and  loved  to  hop 
upon  my  husband's  foot,  who  scratched  its  back  with  a 
dry  twig.  It  instinctively  knew  that  he  was  partial  to 
every  living  thing ;  for  in  the  same  measure  as  with  warm 
hearted  tolerance,  he  honoured  the  individual  belief  of 
every  man,  whether  Christian  or  not,  so  his  fond  sym- 


206  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

pathy  for  animals  was  great.  The  dogs,  Tasso,  Picket, 
Bonnino,  and  Puck,  were  our  dear  companions,  and  the 
horses,  Bill,  Guy,  and  Ben,  were  treated  like  comrades. 
The  last  of  these  served  the  family  forty  years  before 
shuffling  off  his  mortal  coil,  although  during  the  last  five 
he  had  outlived  his  usefulness. 

The  summer  as  usual  brought  us  many  guests,  among 
the  number  some  unasked  and  undesirable — the  reverse 
side  of  our  hospitable  house  and  happy  family  life. 
Friends  like  George  Boker  and  the  Stoddards  were  always 
welcome.  The  latter's  little  son  Lorry  was  six  years 
old,  a  pale,  delicate  child,  a  hothouse  plant  who  filled 
me  with  pity  when  the  time  came  for  him  to  go  back  with 
his  parents  to  the  stifling  heat  of  the  city.  So  he  stayed 
with  us  until  his  cheeks  were  ruddy  with  health.  Although 
several  years  younger  than  my  daughter,  the  two  were 
playmates.  His  lively  imagination  was  always  inventing 
new  games,  while  our  tomboy  was  the  leader  in  mischief,  a 
tendency  inherited  from  her  father  and  grandfather. 
Knowing  this  propensity  I  was  not  very  much  surprised 
one  day  to  find  that  the  children  had  raided  the  hen 
house,  "scrambled"  some  eggs  with  sand,  and  had  fed 
this  "omelette"  to  the  pigs.  Accustomed  to  the  freedom 
of  American  country  life,  my  daughter  naturally  found  it 
hard  to  submit  to  the  rule  of  a  German  governess,  whose 
sense  of  humour  was  almost  nil;  and  the  latter  had  a 
difficult  task.  When  she  called  her  charge  after  the  recess 
both  children  were  usually  hidden  in  the  branches  of 
some  tree,  and  when  she  finally  succeeded  in  catching 
her  truant  scholar,  and  resuming  the  interrupted  lessons. 
Lorry  would  exclaim  crossly,  "  I  wish  governesses  hadn't 
been  born!" 


THE  TRANSLATION   OF   "FAUST"         207 

A  longer  time  elapsed  than  Taylor  had  intended  ere 
he  was  able  to  put  the  finishing  touches  to  the  " Faust" 
translation.  July  of  the  following  year  brought  him  his 
first  days  of  leisure,  which  he  devoted  to  the  revision  of 
his  manuscript  and  to  writing  the  critical  Notes  for  the 
First  Part.  The  interval  had  been  consumed  in  un 
remitting  literary  activity,  accompanied  by  a  growing 
worry  which  the  increasing  expense  of  our  thriving  and 
beautiful  property  thrust  upon  him.  He  had  written  his 
fourth  and  last  novel,  "  Joseph  and  His  Friend,"  and  a 
course  of  lectures  on  the  heroes  of  the  later  classical 
period  of  German  literature,  which  he  delivered  in  Ithaca. 
Cornell  University  had  appointed  him  non-resident  Pro 
fessor  of  German,  with  the  sole  obligation  of  reading  six 
lectures  annually  on  the  literature  of  Germany.  This 
first  course  was  followed  later  by  others,  which  dealt 
with  the  earlier  classical  period,  the  literary  productions 
of  the  Reformation,  and  those  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
After  the  author's  death  the  whole  series  was  published 
under  the  title  " Studies  in  German  Literature." 

Most  reluctantly,  and  yielding  to  the  stress  of  circum 
stances,  my  husband  finally  decided  to  comply  with  the 
many  requests  of  the  so-called  Lyceums  all  over  the  coun 
try,  again  to  deliver  popular  lectures  during  the  course 
of  the  winter.  His  physical  vigour  was  no  longer  that  of 
his  earlier  years,  but — although  he  may  have  realised  it 
at  times — he  refused  to  admit  this  fact,  and  braved 
fatigue  and  hardship  with  the  whole  strength  of  his  in 
domitable  will.  In  the  spring  he  was  attacked  by  a 
severe  illness — whooping  cough,  contracted  by  infection 
while  travelling — which  stubbornly  refused  to  subside.  A 
complete  change  of  air  was  recommended  as  a  cure,  and 


208  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

he  determined  upon  a  plan  that  he  had  been  considering 
for  some  time  past.  He  had  received  invitations  from 
San  Francisco  to  deliver  his  lectures  in  that  city,  and 
remembering  his  former  success  in  1859,  he  at  last  gave 
his  consent,  being  moved  by  two  considerations — his 
health  and  the  probable  remuneration.  The  sequel 
showed  how  much  he  had  miscalculated  in  respect  to 
the  latter. 

The  report  from  Des  Moines  was  encouraging : 

"  I  feel  my  cough  going,  day  by  day,  since  I  left  home. 
I  am  scarcely  fatigued  this  morning,  and  feel  unusually 
well  and  happy.  There  is  no  '  Joseph '  or  other  delayed 
work  hanging  over  me,  and  I  feel  free  to  'loaf  and 
invite  my  soul. ' ' 

From  Salt  Lake  City,  May  2ist,  he  wrote: 

"The  cultivation  of  the  Mormons  is  more  like  that  of 
Europe  than  America:  the  fields,  farms  and  villages  are 
pictures  of  neatness  and  industry.  This  morning  I  have 
been  walking  around  the  city,  which  has  one  of  the  most 
magnificent  situations  in  the  world.  It  is  almost  equal 
to  Granada  or  Damascus.  The  buildings,  even,  have  a 
semi-Oriental  character.  There  is  something  wonderful 
in  finding  this  oasis  of  civilization  in  the  heart  of  the 
wilderness.  ...  I  send  a  flower  from  the  summit 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  8,200  feet  above  the  sea." 

As  my  husband  wrote  daily,  I  received  the  following 
soon  after: 

"I  had  a  very  interesting  day  yesterday.  I  met 
Cannon  and  Smith,  two  of  the  Apostles,  who  went  with 
me  to  Brigham  Young's  house.  The  old  Sultan  was 


THE  TRANSLATION   OF   "FAUST"         209 

exceedingly  courteous  and  agreeable.  I  talked  about 
three-quarters  of  an  hour  with  him  and  the  others.  He 
is  a  man  of  great  power  and  shrewdness,  and  not  without 
culture.  His  oldest  son  is  a  bright,  wide-awake  man, 
very  agreeable  in  manners. 

"In  the  evening  I  met  with  the  leaders  of  the  new 
sect,  who  are  opposed  to  Br.  Young's  rule.  It  was  a 
secret  conference:  they  told  me  their  creed,  their  plans, 
the  history  of  the  movement,  their  views  about  polyg 
amy,  etc.,  and  there  were  a  great  many  points  about 
which  I  agreed  with  them.  They  are  advanced  liberals 
in  religion,  earnest  intelligent  men,  who  are  better  than 
most  of  those  in  the  orthodox  churches.  ...  I  have 
already  acquired  a  new  insight  into  the  whole  Mormon 
movement,  and  do  not  find  much  except  the  manifestation 
usual  in  sects  which  have  been  prosecuted.  In  fact, 
Mormonism  is  nothing  but  Orthodoxy  carried  a  little 
further." 

On  May  23d,  while  crossing  the  Great  Basin  Taylor 
sent  me  these  few  lines,  written  on  the  train,  in  the 
Humboldt  Valley: 

"  This  is  still  Asia.  Great  dry  plains,  mountain  ranges 
of  the  loveliest  colors  and  snowy  peaks  in  the  distance. 
Weather  heavenly,  no  dust,  but  fragrance  of  wild  sage 
everywhere,  cars  the  perfection  of  comfort.  I  send 
a  flower  I  picked  up  this  morning.  Shall  reach  Sacra 
mento  by  noon  tomorrow." 

Arrived  in  San  Francisco,  Taylor  found  nothing  to 
remind  him  of  the  town  of  1859,  except  its  incompar 
able  situation.  "All  is  rebuilt,  changed,  and  beauti 
fied,"  he  wrote  on  May  24th.  My  husband's  letters 
were  eight  days  en  route.  In  the  interval,  however,  I 
had  received  a  telegram  announcing  his  arrival  in  San 


210  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

Francisco :  "  Well  and  in  the  best  of  spirits."  Then,  dur 
ing  the  night  of  the  2Qth,  I  had  a  most  singular  dream: 
I  dreamt  that  my  husband  came  home  suddenly  and  told 
me  that  he  had  made  a  mistake,  three  of  his  lectures  in 
San  Francisco  had  been  successful,  but  the  others  were  a 
failure.  He  seemed  depressed,  and  we  deliberated  in 
what  way  the  loss  could  be  made  good.  The  dream  was 
so  vivid  and  made  such  an  impression  upon  me  that  I 
told  it  at  the  breakfast  table  to  Taylor's  parents  and 
sister,  Mrs.  Lamborn,  who  was  visiting  us.  A  few  days 
later  the  chambermaid  knocked  at  my  door:  "A  tele 
gram,  ma'am."  I  opened  the  envelope  and  read:  " Send 
no  more  letters ;  I  shall  start  homeward  very  soon.  Bayard 
Taylor."  Thus  I  knew  that  my  dream  had  come  true. 

In  due  time  I  learned  the  details.  On  May  3oth  my 
husband  wrote: 

"  I  confess  to  being  regularly  homesick  this  morning. 
You  were  in  my  thoughts  all  day,  yesterday,  and  I  half 
made  up  my  mind,  by  night,  to  cut  off  some  of  my 
proposed  lectures  and  hurry  back  again.  .  .  .  The 
lecture  at  Oakland,  on  Saturday  night,  was  a  dead 
failure.  I  did  not  make  a  cent." 

The  following  letter  ran: 

"I  should  start  home  on  Tuesday  were  it  not  that  I 
want,  at  least,  to  earn  enough  to  pay  my  expenses,  and 
one  more  lecture  in  San  Francisco  will  bring  me  some 
thing.  .  .  .  The  complete  intellectual  apathy  of  the 
Calif ornians  is  something  marvellous.  .  .  .  The  very 
people  that  seemed  so  bright  and  intelligent  in  1859, 
are  now  equally  demoralized,  and  no  better  than  the  rest." 
But  nothing  could  daunt  his  courage:  "Meantime,"  he 


THE  TRANSLATION   OF   "FAUST"         211 

wrote,  "  I  am  growing  strong  and  in  good  spirits  for 
work.  .  .  .  Perhaps  I  needed  the  present  disappoint 
ment  and  disillusion.  The  loss  of  my  expected  $3,000 
here  is  only  a  temporary  inconvenience.  ...  I  am 
really  (believe  me!)  about  as  cheerful  as  if  I  had  been 
successful.  There  is  no  use  in  whining  over  the  in 
evitable." 

His  last  letter  was  dated  June  loth;  then  he  hurried 
home  as  fast  as  steam  could  bear  him. 

Early  in  July  the  old  parents  started  upon  a  voyage 
across  the  ocean  in  the  company  of  friends,  to  visit  their 
elder  daughter  for  the  space  of  a  year,  and  I  was  left 
alone  with  my  husband  and  child  for  the  first  time  since 
our  house  had  been  built.  We  were  lonely  the  first  few 
days,  but  this  close  family  life  had  its  charming  aspects, 
and  we  might  have  given  ourselves  up  to  the  unrestricted 
enjoyment  of  its  peace  and  outward  quiet  had  not  our 
hearts  been  filled  with  anxiety  by  the  news  from  Germany. 
The  Franco-German  War  had  suddenly 'broken  out,  and 
we  followed  the  news  with  doubt  and  anxious  expectancy. 
It  was  not  easy  for  me  to  remain  so  far  away  from  my 
fatherland  at  a  time  when  the  patriotism  of  every  German 
heart  was  deeply  moved.  How  gladly  would  I  have 
stood  in  the  midst  of  the  enthusiasm  that  seized  upon  all 
parts  of  Germany  when  victory  after  victory  was  achieved 
by  the  united  troops  of  the  Northern  and  Southern 
armies. 

It  was  Saturday  evening,  September  3d,  when  the 
news  reached  us  of  the  glorious  victory  at  Sedan  and 
Napoleon's  capture.  A  neighbour  in  Kennett  Square 
had  been  in  Wilmington  and  read  the  despatch  in  an 
evening  paper.  We  did  not  dare  to  trust  the  news 


212  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

which  might  be  a  canard — it  was  too  glorious  to  be  true; 
but  the  possibility  was  ever  present  in  our  minds,  and 
Taylor  and  I  lamented  all  the  next  forenoon  that  this  was 
Sunday  when  there  was  neither  mail  nor  newspaper. 
Toward  noon  a  visitor  came  from  the  village  and  corrobo 
rated  the  report;  so-and-so  had  read  the  despatch  the 
night  before — it  emanated  from  the  Legation  in  London. 
This  made  it  more  probable,  yet  our  desire  was  for  cer 
tainty.  After  dinner  I  had  the  horse  harnessed  and  drove 
into  the  village,  where  I  was  able  to  obtain  a  Sunday 
paper  that  someone  had  brought  to  Kennett  from  Phila 
delphia,  and  there  the  victory  was  set  down  in  black  and 
white!  I  carried  it  home  in  triumph,  and  wrote  to  my 
mother  the  same  evening,  "Taylor  and  I  are  so  excited 
that  we  can  hardly  contain  ourselves.  It  seems  as  if 
my  mind  has  room  but  for  one  thought — the  gigantic, 
glorious  fight  of  our  German  people."  Next  morning 
I  added: 

"What  do  you  think  my  husband  did  last  night? 
He  wrote  a  German  poem : '  Jubellied  eines  Amerikaners,'* 
of  which  I  enclose  a  copy.  The  paper  this  morning  con 
tained  a  graphic  description  of  the  battle  of  last  Thursday 
at  Sedan.  And  the  mail  brought  us  a  few  hasty  lines 
from  our  friend  Whitelaw  Reid,  managing  editor  of 
the  Tribune,  that  I  must  translate  for  you.  He  writes: 
'Great  news — extra  Tribunes,  Sunday  issue  to-morrow, 
English  and  German,  your  Napoleon  to  be  used,  Schem  f 
holding  hard  to  restrain  himself  from  lager  beer  enough 
to  keep  in  working  trim,  the  Bowery  gently  and  peace 
fully  drunk,  and  the  Tribune  waving  the  North  German 
flag." 

*" Paean  of  an  American." 

f  A  German  on  the  Tribune  staff. 


THE  TRANSLATION   OF   "FAUST"          213 

In  the  meantime  the  final  work  on  "  Faust"  progressed 
rapidly.  The  First  Part  was  to  appear  late  in  the  autumn, 
the  Second  in  the  following  spring.  The  time  for  revision 
and  writing  the  explanatory  Notes  was  therefore  short, 
and  if  my  husband  had  not  already  gone  over  the  ground 
thoroughly  before  writing  his  commentary,  and  drawn 
his  own  conclusions,  he  would  not  have  been  able  to  com 
plete  the  immense  task  that  still  remained  in  the  remark 
ably  brief  period  of  eight  months.  In  regard  to  the  Notes 
he  wrote  to  a  friend  that  he  had  given  in  them  the  essence 
of  fifty  volumes  of  criticism,  besides  many  things  of  his 
own.  The  critical  memoranda  to  the  Second  Part  of 
"Faust"  entailed  the  greatest  amount  of  study,  as  the 
latter  presented  many  a  riddle  to  solve,  many  a  Gordian 
knot  to  untangle.  Taylor  said  that  they  contained  a 
great  deal  more  of  his  own  independent  criticism. 

At  last  the  hour  of  deliverance  approached.  On 
February  25th  Bayard  Taylor  wrote  the  last  word  of  the 
"  Faust ' '  manuscript.  It  was  well  that  such  was  the  case ; 
for  he  had  several  times  come  near  to  the  point  of  ex 
haustion.  "The  conclusion  of  the  Second  Part,"  he 
wrote  to  a  friend,  "  so  exhausted  my  strength,  that  now, 
ten  days  after  finishing  the  work,  I  am  only  just  begin 
ning  to  recover  my  ordinary  vitality." 

Side  by  side  with  the  higher  growth  of  the  poet  that 
showed  forth  more  and  more  prominently,  a  subtle 
change  took  place  gradually  in  regard  to  old  habits  and 
associations.  Heretofore  Taylor's  inherited  affection  for 
his  birthplace  and  his  love  of  nature  had  influenced  him  in 
the  choice  of  his  home,  but  lately  the  consciousness  had 
forced  itself  upon  him  that  he  was  "not  so  dependent 
upon  nature,  as  formerly";  and  that  it  was  a  mistake 


2i4  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

to  try  to  be  at  once  farmer  and  author.  He  gradually 
realised  that  he  lived  in  a  sort  of  servitude  to  his  property, 
and  that  his  proper  sphere  was  not  the  narrow  circle  of  a 
country  village,  but  the  intellectual  arena  of  a  great 
city.  The  experiences  of  the  past  year  were  such  as  to 
ripen  a  decision  in  his  mind  that  had  lain  dormant  in  his 
thoughts  for  some  time  past.  The  early  summer  of  1870 
was  inaugurated  with  torrents  of  rain.  The  wet  season 
spoiled  the  hay  harvest,  ruined  the  wheat,  and  rendered 
the  fruit  watery.  There  was  a  complete  failure  of  farm 
and  garden  crops.  In  addition,  at  a  time  when  my  hus 
band  was  most  deeply  engaged  in  the  toilsome  work  of 
" Faust,"  the  coming  and  going  of  visitors  became  an 
almost  intolerable  burden  to  him,  and  he  longed  to  get 
away  from  the  country  into  the  city,  where  interruptions 
at  all  hours  of  the  day  were  impossible.  Under  the  sum 
of  these  discouragements  even  his  sanguine  tempera 
ment  gave  way,  and  he  became  convinced  that  it  would 
not  do  "to  keep  ' Cedarcroft '  for  a  sentiment."  In  a  long 
letter  to  his  parents,  dated  November  loth,  he  wrote  in 
part  as  follows: 

"I  care  much  less  about  farming  and  gardening,  and 
much  more  for  my  literary  work,  than  I  did  four  or  five 
years  ago.  .  .  .  My  old  attachment  to  the  soil 
would  lead  me  to  remain;  but  my  reason  and  common 
sense  tell  me  I  ought  to  make  a  complete  change.  I  have 
been  meditating  this  for  four  or  five  years  past ;  but  have 
been  postponing  the  decision,  partly  on  Lilian's  account, 
and  partly  because  it  was  so  hard  to  make." 

A  few  weeks  later  Taylor  touched  upon  the  same  subject 
in  a  German  letter  to  my  father,  in  which  he  said : 


THE   TRANSLATION   OF   "FAUST"         215 

"It  is  my  intention  so  to  dispose  of  my  affairs  that  I 
can  be  independent  and  without  anxiety  and  go  wherever 
I  choose;  I  would  then  remain  at  least  two  years  in 
Europe.  I  have  new  literary  plans  that  necessitate  a 
variety  of  studies,  and  if  Heaven  is  gracious  to  me,  I 
shall  so  arrange  my  time  and  business  that  I  can  carry 
them  out." 

The  plans  to  which  he  alluded  had  reference  to  nothing 
less  than  a  combined  biography  of  Goethe  and  Schiller. 
He  had  conceived  the  idea  of  this  twin  biography  during 
the  past  years,  while  intimately  studying  the  two  poets  and 
gaining  a  deep  insight  into  their  nature  and  spirit.  They 
were  complementary,  he  said,  because,  during  an  impor 
tant  period  in  the  lives  of  both,  they  had  been  closely 
associated  and  had  reacted  one  upon  the  other.  In  his 
later  letters  to  friends  in  New  York,  published  in  his  own 
biography,  he  dealt  with  this  idea  more  in  detail.  In 
the  meantime  my  husband  continued  his  studies  with 
reference  to  the  plan  as  often  as  his  other  literary  work 
permitted.  In  his  talks  with  me  he  gave  utterance  to 
many  of  the  thoughts  that  passed  through  his  mind  at 
that  time.  Thus,  for  instance:  "A  poet  alone  can  pene 
trate  the  inmost  life  of  a  poet."  Another  time  he  spoke 
of  the  discord  that  arose  between  Goethe  and  his  Weimar 
friends  after  his  return  from  Italy,  particularly  as  re 
garded  the  circle  of  which  Frau  von  Stein  was  the  centre. 
"  During  Goethe's  absence  Schiller  had  come  to  Weimar," 
he  explained ;  "  the  latter  was  feted  and  admired,  partly 
to  gratify  petty  jealousies  that  the  former  had  given  rise 
to,  and  to  throw  him  into  the  shade.  In  Italy  Goethe 
had  lived  in  absolute  freedom,  only  for  himself  and  his 
art,  and  had  attained  to  the  highest  development  of  his 


2i6  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

own  individuality — he  had  progressed,  while  those  whom 
he  had  left  behind  remained  stationary." 

Goethe's  "Naturliche  Tochter"*  he  considered  "a 
singularly  neglected  masterpiece,"  and  "Pandora"  a 
wonderfully  beautiful  poem.  He  was  also  of  the  opinion 
that  Goethe's  "love  of  allegorical  representation  in 
later  years"  was  a  "natural  reaction  against  the  strong 
realistic  tendencies"  that  characterised  his  creative 
methods.  "The  informing  imagination  by  which  he 
elevated  reality  grew  weaker,  especially  after  so  much 
scientific  research,  and  allegory  became  an  easy  substi 
tute  for  it."  As  regards  "Goethe's  often  too  minute, 
almost  painful  motivirung  (as  in  Tasso),"  Taylor  believed 
that  the  latter  "  belongs  to  Art,  but  it  was  in  him  also  in 
creased  by  Science.  He  retained,  however,  the  clearest 
vision  of  what  was  requisite,  even  after  his  prime  power 
of  achieving  it  had  passed." 

The  autumn  of  1870  almost  compensated  us  for  the 
unpleasant  summer.  The  fair,  bright,  warm  days  lasted 
far  into  December.  Early  in  the  month  I  plucked  a  rose 
that  had  blossomed  out  of  doors,  and  my  husband  brought 
me  a  bunch  of  verbenas  and  gilliflowers.  But  our 
longing  for  congenial  society  led  us  into  the  city,  where  we 
spent  three  months,  and  Taylor  was  able  to  finish  his 
great  work  with  fewer  interruptions.  Toward  the  end 
of  March,  when  the  Second  Part  was  published  in  Boston, 
we  spent  several  days  in  that  city  as  the  guests  of  our 
friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  T.  B.  Aldrich,  dined  with  Longfellow 
in  Cambridge  and  renewed  a  number  of  acquaintances 
in  both  cities.  .The  publication  of  the  Second  Part  was 
celebrated  at  the  house  of  the  publisher,  James  T.  Fields 

*"The  Natural  Daughter." 


THE  TRANSLATION   OF   "FAUST"         217 

and  his  talented  wife.  Professor  Agassiz  and  E.  P. 
Whipple  came  in  later  and  added  their  congratulations. 
The  latter,  with  "his  protuberant  eyes"  (as  D.  G.  Mitchell 
said),  talked  with  me  about  "Faust."  "It  is  not  only 
the  best  translation  we  have,"  he  said,  "it  is  also  a  proof 
of  Taylor's  high-minded  patriotism.  He  has  spent  ten 
years  in  completing  the  task,  while  he  might  have  been 
earning  thousands  of  dollars  with  other  work.  Why, 
the  translation  is  as  long  as  the  Trojan  War!" 

Although  1,500  copies  of  the  first  volume  of  the  hand 
some  and  expensive  edition  were  sold  within  a  few  days 
of  publication,  my  husband  did  not  venture  to  hope  for 
an  equal  sale  of  the  more  abstruse  Second  Part.  Never 
theless,  the  latter  did  not  fall  much  short  of  the  above- 
mentioned  figure. 

In  the  summer  Taylor's  parents  returned  from  their 
European  travel  in  a  refreshed  and  stimulated  frame  of 
mind.  Their  homecoming  again  enlarged  the  family 
circle  at  "Cedarcroft,"  and  brought  us  an  increased  influx 
of  visitors.  Meanwhile  we  felt  more  and  more  that  our 
attachment  for  this  beautiful  property  was  on  the  wane 
— its  disadvantages  seemed  to  grow  more  prominent,  its 
bright  aspects  lost  their  glamour.  Perhaps  in  conse 
quence  of  this  fact,  or  was  it  because  my  future  fate  cast 
its  shadow  before? — I  was  sometimes  seized  with  the  pre 
sentiment  of  the  sword  of  Damocles  hanging  over  our 
heads.  And  not  I  alone,  my  husband  also  had  moments 
of  clear  prophetic  vision.  Years  before  he  had  told  me 
that  he  should  die  first,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  sixties 
he  suddenly  declared  that  he  foresaw  it  would  come  to 
pass  that  he  would  be  sent  as  Minister  to  Berlin,  the  only 
diplomatic  post  which  he  would  care  to  accept.  I  was 


2i8  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

frightened  at  this  supposition,  without  knowing  why,  and 
exclaimed:  "Oh,  I  hope  you  are  mistaken!"  An  in 
comprehensible  coincidence  in  the  dream  habits  of  my 
husband  was  the  absurd  fact  that  before  every  illness 
from  which  he  suffered  he  dreamed  of  the  King  of  Hol 
land,  whom  he  had  never  seen  and  in  regard  to  whom  he 
was  absolutely  indifferent.  "And  is  it  not  strange,"  he 
said  to  me  in  his  last  illness,  "  that  now,  since  I  have  actu 
ally  seen  the  King,  I  am  sicker  than  ever  before  ? ' ' 

It  was  in  September,  a  month  after  the  dear  old  people 
had  come  home.  The  melancholy  note  of  the  rain  dove 
sounded  from  a  distant  grove,  and  soon  after  the  first 
great  drops  fell  upon  the  thirsty  soil.  The  dripping  of 
the  long-expected  rain  made  welcome  music  and  content 
filled  the  spirits  of  all.  In  this  mood  my  husband  sat 
down  at  his  desk  and  took  up  his  pen;  in  a  little  while 
he  showed  me,  chuckling  inwardly,  as  was  his  wont  when 
ever  anything  struck  him  as  particularly  funny,  several 
short  comic  poems,  imitations  of  the  style  of  Walt 
Whitman,  Bret  Harte,  John  Hay,  and  Joaquin  Miller. 
These  parodies,  which  he  joined  to  a  connected  whole 
by  an  imaginary  dialogue,  were  published  in  the  Tribune 
under  the  caption  "The  Battle  of  the  Bards."  They 
received  so  much  applause  that  my  husband  thereupon 
conceived  the  idea  of  making  use  of  the  jeu  $  esprit  of 
our  Sunday  evenings  in  a  similar  manner.  Thus  the  little 
volume,  "The  Diversions  of  the  Echo  Club,"  was  sug 
gested,  in  which  much  half -concealed  criticism  and  literary 
wisdom  is  interwoven  with  its  absurd  and  witty  imitations. 

Of  an  utterly  different  character  was  a  lengthy  poem 
in  dramatic  form  that  he  composed  in  a  short  space  of 
time  during  the  following  winter,  in  response  to  a  sudden 


THE  TRANSLATION  OF   "FAUST"         219 

return  of  the  creative  impulse.  About  the  middle  of 
February,  when  my  husband  returned  from  a  short 
lecturing  tour  in  the  West  that  had  been  accompanied  by 
great  physical  hardship,  he  wished  to  pay  a  flying  visit 
to  Kennett  on  the  way  back  to  New  York,  and  had 
arranged  that  I  should  meet  him  there.  When  my 
daughter  and  I  stepped  out  of  the  railway  car  at  the 
station  we  found  Taylor  waiting  for  us,  and  our  two 
speedy  horses,  Guy  and  Lady  Ellen,  carried  us  quickly 
through  rnud  and  slush  to  "Cedarcroft,"  where  the  dogs 
were  foremost  in  welcoming  us  with  barking  and  canine 
marks  of  joy.  The  dear  old  parents  came  out  into  the  por 
tico  with  welcome  in  their  happy  faces.  Becky,  the  house 
keeper,  had  a  delicious  supper  ready,  consisting,  among 
other  dishes  of  Chester  County  dainties,  of  barbecued 
chicken;  and  a  bright  fire  burned  cheerily  on  the  hearth.* 
The  two  days  of  rural  restfulness  that  he  there  enjoyed 
refreshed  Taylor  to  such  an  extent  that,  after  his  return 
to  the  city,  he  at  once  retired  into  his  little  study  and 
delivered  his  brain  of  "a  vast  and  daring  conception," 
as  Mr.  Stedman  says.  This  poem,  written  in  three  days, 
in  a  state  of  intense  exaltation,  and  entitled  "  The  Masque t 
of  the  Gods,"  was  so  completely  after  my  own  heart  that 
its  creation  rendered  me  extremely  happy. 

This  production  of  my  husband's  pen  marked  the  barrier 
that  henceforth  separated  him  from  his  former  reading 
public.  There  were  few  now  who  understood  him. 

*  From  a  letter  to  my  mother. 

fPeacham,  an  older  English  author,  says:  Masque  is  a  dramatic 
performance  written  in  a  tragic  style,  without  attention  to  rules  or 
possibilities.  The  old  dramatists  wrote  their  Masques  for  the  closet 
or  for  the  stage.  Milton's  Masque  of  "Comus"  was  composed  for  the 
former  purpose,  while  Ben  Jonson's  Masques  were  acted. 


220  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

Even  among  his  colleagues  several  shook  their  heads 
and  deplored  Taylor's  tendency  to  allow  his  poetry  to 
be  influenced  by  his  metaphysical  reflections.  In  reality 
metaphysics  were  as  abhorrent  to  him  as  pure  mathe 
matics.  Taylor  characterised  as  psychological  what  his 
critics  styled  metaphysical.  In  "The  Masque  of  the 
Gods"  he  represented  the  great  evolution  of  the  Divine 
Idea,  as  it  manifests  itself  in  the  succeeding  epochs  of 
History,  beginning  with  the  adoration  of  elementary 
deities  and  progressing  in  the  course  of  ages,  until  it 
culminates  in  the  supplication  of  the  Godhead: 

"  We  dare  not  name  Thee,  scarce  dare  pray  to  Thee." 

When  Taylor  several  years  later  had  finished  his  last 
drama,  "Prince  Deukalion,"  I  recognised  in  the  earlier 
poem  the  prologue  to  the  more  voluminous  work.  Al 
though  not  intended  as  such,  yet  it  stands  in  the  same 
relation  to  the  latter  that  an  overture  bears  to  a  greater 
musical  composition.  The  fundamental  idea  or  motif 
of  the  earlier  work  is  amplified  in  the  later  drama,  and 
swells  to  a  choral  harmony,  through  which  the  chord  of 
the  original  melody  runs  from  the  first  tone  to  the  last. 

Shortly  before  we  left  the  city  we  made  (according  to 
my  memoranda)  the  acquaintance  of  Bret  Harte,  who 
had  lately  come  to  the  eastern  states  and  was  much 
feted.  My  husband  brought  him  in  one  day  and  intro 
duced  him  to  me.  "He  makes  an  agreeable  and,  to 
speak  with  Seume,*  a  'humane'  impression  upon  me/' 
I  wrote  in  my  diary;  "he  is  handsome,  with  the  easy 
manners  of  a  man  of  the  world;  he  likes  to  hear  himself 

*I  had  just  been  reading  Seume's  "Spaziergang  nach  Syrakus." 
("A  Walk  to  Syracuse.") 


THE  TRANSLATION   OF   "FAUST"         221 

talk,  is  not  tolerant  of  interruptions,  and  is  very  enter 
taining.  Before  he  left  the  room  he  looked  at  himself  in 
the  mirror."  We  invited  him  to  dinner  soon  after;  he 
accepted — and  did  not  come.  This  was  his  usual  habit, 
and  numerous  complaints  were  rife  in  consequence. 
After  my  husband's  death,  however,  he  wrote  such  a 
letter  to  me  as  to  make  me  truly  grateful  to  him. 

In  the  spring  we  spent  two  months  in  preparing  for 
another  sojourn  in  Europe.  My  husband  collected  and 
revised  his  shorter  poems  of  the  last  decade,  casting 
much  aside,  and  getting  them  ready  to  be  published  later 
in  a  volume.  He  put  our  property  in  order,  so  that  he 
could  leave  it  and  be  free  from  pecuniary  worries  in  regard 
to  its  management.  The  house  was  rented  and  a  cottage 
in  Kennett  Square  secured  for  the  old  people;  the  farm 
and  garden  were  let  to  a  tenant;  and  my  husband,  who 
had  never  had  a  talent  for  farming,  whom  aesthetic 
motives  alone  had  influenced  in  his  acquisition  of  land, 
felt  himself  suddenly  relieved  of  a  heavy  burden,  and  was 
able  to  indite  with  a  light  heart  the  latter  portion  of  his 
Epilogue  to  the  "  Home  Pastorals  " : 

"Now,  if  the  tree  I  planted  for  mine  must  shadow 

another, 
If  the  uncounted  tender  memories,  sown  with  the 

seasons, 
Filling  the  webs  of  ivy,  the  grove,  the  terrace  of 

roses, 
Clothing    the    lawns    with    unwithering   green,    the 

orchard  with  blossoms, 
Singing    a    finer    song   to    the    exquisite  motion  of 

waters, 
Breathing  profounder  calm  from  the  dark  Dodonian 

oak-trees, 


222  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

Now  must  be  lost,  till,  haply,  the  hearts  of  others 

renew  them — 
Yet  we  have  had  and  enjoyed,  we  have  and  enjoy 

them  forever." 


CHAPTER  XII 
IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  AGAIN 

MORE  than  three  years  had  elapsed  since  I  had  last 
seen  my  parents — a  separation  long  enough  to  have 
lent  wings  to  my  longing,  and  to  cloud  the  joy  of  our  re 
union  by  enabling  me  to  observe  the  signs  of  age  that  the 
advancing  years  had  left  upon  my  dear  ones.  These  were 
much  more  pronounced  in  my  father  than  in  my  mother. 
In  spite  of  her  delicate  health  the  latter  bore  her  sixty-one 
years  well  and  looked  comparatively  young;  her  carriage 
was  as  erect  as  ever,  for  her  strong  will  enabled  her  to 
overcome  her  increasing  feebleness  and  to  simulate  the 
activity  of  former  days.  My  father,  on  the  contrary, 
who  was  many  years  her  senior,  appeared  painfully 
changed  to  my  eyes — his  body  emaciated,  his  complexion 
pallid,  his  eyesight  dulled,  and  his  mood  unusually 
gentle  and  easily  affected.  My  mother's  letters  had  in 
some  measure  prepared  me  for  these  changes,  but  I  was 
filled  with  deep  sorrow  to  witness  them  with  my  own 
eyes. 

We  arrived  at  Gotha  in  the  early  summer  of  1872. 
From  this  date  on  the  grandparents  lived  as  in  a  bee 
hive.  In  addition  to  the  grandchild  that  we  brought, 
there  were  six  that  came  from  Russia  and  two  from 
Westphalia.  These  little  people  and  their  respective 
parents  filled  all  the  rooms  of  the  great  house  without 
inconvenience  to  anyone.  The  Saal  and  my  mother's 

223 


224  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

sitting-room  in  the  second  story  were  usually  deserted,  as 
our  large  family  preferred  to  congregate  in  the  "Garden- 
room/*  the  summer  dining-room  that  opened  upon  the 
vine-embowered  veranda.  Thence  a  few  stone  steps  led 
down  to  the  little  flower  garden  with  its  wealth  of  rose 
trees,  and  into  the  berry  patch  behind  the  Observatory, 
the  children's  delight. 

It  was  a  real  pleasure  for  Taylor,  after  so  much  work 
and  fatigue,  to  give  himself  up  completely  to  the  relaxa 
tion  of  this  family  reunion,  and  to  live  only  for  the  passing 
hour.  After  weeks  of  rest  he  started  out  again  to  make 
local  studies  for  the  biography,  and  took  me  with  him. 
In  an  open  carriage,  and  under  a  smiling  sky,  we  drove 
toward  the  hills  and  valleys  of  my  beloved  Thuringian 
Forest,  and  finally  came  to  Ilmenau, 

"Delightful  vale!     Thou  ever-verdant  grove."  * 

How  beautiful  it  was  even  now!  And,  as  if  an  enchanter 
had  willed,  there  was  but  one  room  vacant  in  the  Lion 
Inn — the  room  in  which  Goethe  had  spent  his  last  birth 
day  in  1831. 

Another  surprise  awaited  us,  for  Berthold  Auerbach 
suddenly  entered  the  room,  and  thus  agreeably  we 
renewed  our  acquaintance  with  him.  The  conversation 
at  once  turned  upon  the  master,  and  he  told  us  of  an  old 
lady,  who  before  her  death  had  imitated  for  his  benefit 
the  way  in  which  Goethe  read  his  poetry.  Then  Auer 
bach  picked  up  our  volume  of  Goethe's  Poems,  that  we 
had  brought  with  us,  and  began  declaiming,  in  a  deep 
solemn  tone  and  measured  accents: 

*Anmuthig  Thai!  Du  immer  griiner  Hain!  (See  Goethe's  poem, 
"Ilmenau.") 


IN  THE   OLD   WORLD  AGAIN  225 

"Feiger  Gedanken 
Bangliches  Schwanken, 
Weibisches   Zagen, 
Aengstliches  Klagen, 
Macht  Dich  nicht  frei." 

Then,  raising  his  voice,  with  greater  emphasis: 

"  Allen  Gewalten 
Zum  Trutz  sich  erhalten, 
Nimmer  sich  beugen, 
Kraftig  sich  zeigen, 
Rufet  die  Arme 
Der  Gotter  herbei."  * 

It  was  almost  as  if  Goethe  were  actually  among  us, 
especially  as  we  were  in  his  very  room. 

On  the  following  day  we  drove  from  Ilmenau  through 
the  romantic  valley  of  the  Schwarza  and  along  the 
idyllic  banks  of  the  Saale  to  Volkstedt,  where  Schiller 
once  spent  some  happy  months,  and  where  he  wrote 
"  Die  Kiinstler."  We  left  our  carriage  to  proceed  without 
us,  and  visited  the  room  in  which  the  poet  lived.  Then, 
while  the  sun  was  sinking  in  the  west,  we  followed  the 
same  path  he  had  so  often  trod,  led  by  the  magnet  of  his 

*  Cowardly  faltering, 
Hesitant    paltering, 
Womanish  quailing, 
Terrified   wailing, 
Turns  not  misfortune, 
Nor  gives  you  the  odds. 

Proving  the  master 

In  spite  of  disaster, 

Yielding  him  never, 

Combating  ever, 

Thus  man  invoketh 

The  arms  of  the  gods.  L.  B.  T.  K. 


226  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

heart's  desire  to  the  neighbouring  town  of  Rudolstadt  * — 
the  walk  to  which  we  owe  his  glorious  poem,  "Der 
Spaziergang."  After  a  short  rest  in  this  little  out-of-the- 
way  place,  we  ended  our  pilgrimage  and  returned  to  the 
paternal  roof. 

The  following  month  found  us  at  Bormio,  in  the  Val 
Tellina,  where  my  husband  took  the  baths  celebrated  from 
ancient  times,  and  drank  the  water  of  Tarasp.  In  addition 
to  this  cure,  he  was  benefited  perhaps  even  more  by  the 
three  weeks'  rest  in  this  glorious  Alpine  nook,  surrounded 
by  rocky  pinnacles,  dark  evergreen  forests,  grassy  slopes, 
snow-capped  peaks  and  glaciers,  whence  the  air  came 
down  to  us  pure  and  bracing.  The  baths  were  off  the 
beaten  path  of  travel,  and  in  the  lonely  hotel,  4,500  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea,  we  found  only  some  Italians 
of  the  higher  classes  and  a  few  cultured  English  and 
Germans,  a  company  whose  equal  is  not  often  met  with. 
Among  my  own  compatriots  I  will  mention  only  the  noted 
translater  and  student  of  Dante,  Karl  Witte,  and  the 
eldest  son  of  the  poet  Riickert.  Another  interesting 
acquaintance  was  a  Scotchman,  Lieutenant-Colonel  Ram 
say,  a  well-educated  man  and  an  agreeable  companion, 
whom  we  met  again  later  in  Florence.  Our  acquaintance 
began  at  the  table  d'hote  where  I  sat  beside  him,  and  he 
made  a  few  remarks  in  German.  Being  at  a  loss  for  a 
word,  he  said,  "  But  very  likely  you  speak  English  better 

than  I  do  German ;  what  is  the  German  expression  for ? ' ' 

(The  word  has  escaped  my  memory.)  "  My  husband  can 
tell  you  better  than  I,"  was  my  answer.  Thus  the  latter 
was  drawn  into  the  conversation,  and  a  mutual  liking 

*  He  was  courting  his  future  wife,  Charlotte  von  Lengefeld,  whose 
home  was  in  Rudolstadt. 


IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  AGAIN  227 

sprang   up   between   the   two   men.     In   his   memoirs,* 
published  in  1882,  he  speaks  thus  of  Bayard  Taylor: 

"I  complimented  him  upon  the  excellent  manner  in 
which  he  spoke  English,  which  was  surprising  for  a  for 
eigner.  'But  I  am  not  a  foreigner,'  he  said.  'Well,  a 
German,  then.'  'But  I  am  not  a  German.'  I  tried 
various  nationalities,  but  without  success,  when  he  said — 
'Is  there  no  other  nation  but  that  small  island  of  yours 
that  talks  English?'  I  said,  'How  stupid  I  am!  of  course 
you  are  an  American,  and  you  are  Bayard  Taylor,'  to 
which  he  confessed.  The  purity  with  which  he  spoke 
English,  and  the  careful  grammatical  construction  of  his 
sentences,  along  with  the  total  absence  of  any  accent, 
led  me  at  first  to  think  that  he  was  neither  English  nor 
American.  He  was  a  most  charming  companion.  I 
never  met  a  man  with  more  versatile  talent  or  greater 
powers  of  fascination.  As  a  conversationalist,  I  should 
say  he  was  almost  unrivalled.  His  powers  of  memory 
were  also  prodigious.  He  used  often  to  recite  to  us  whole 
poems  in  the  Norse  language.  With  every  dialect  he 
seemed  to  be  familiar,  in  German  especially  so." 

The  weeks  passed  quickly  and  pleasantly  in  intercourse 
with  such  intellectual  people,  varied  by  short  trips  into 
the  valleys  adjacent  to  Bormio,  until  a  fall  of  fresh  snow 
upon  the  surrounding  peaks  warned  us  that  cooler  weather 
was  approaching;  and  the  number  of  guests  at  the  hotel 
began  to  dwindle  perceptibly.  On  September  2d  we 
also  departed,  and  made  our  way  southward  to  the 
Italian  Lakes  and  over  the  Simplon  to  Lausanne.  It 
was  a  delightful  trip  of  a  week's  duration.  During  all 

*  "Rough  Recollections  of  Military  Service  and  Society,"  by  Lieuten 
ant-Colonel  Balcarres  D.  Wardlow  Ramsay.  Balcarres  D.  Wardlow 
was  the  surname  of  his  grandfather,  Earl  Balcarres.  Colonel  Ramsay 
was  a  younger  son. 


228  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

this  time  we  did  not  hear  the  scream  of  a  locomotive,  we 
did  not  see  a  railway  train.  We  enjoyed  the  true  poetry 
of  travel  in  an  open  carriage,  feasting  our  eyes  upon  the 
deep  blue  sky  and  the  beautiful  scenery.  Twice  only  we 
abandoned  the  carriage  and  embarked  upon  a  steamer, 
to  cross  the  azure  expanse  of  the  Lake  of  Como  and  the 
Lago  Maggiore,  while  a  rowboat  took  us  from  Porlezza, 
in  its  quiet  bay  hemmed  in  by  dark  hills,  to  the  villa  city 
of  Lugano.  On  the  trip  across  the  Lago  Maggiore  to 
Pallanza  we  recognised  a  view,  looking  backward  across 
the  lake  toward  Baveno,  as  the  original  of  one  of  Sanford 
R.  Gifford's  most  beautiful  landscapes;  but  the  mystic 
veil  of  rain  through  which  he  looked  at  the  scene  and 
which  he  fixed  upon  his  canvas  had  long  been  dissipated, 
and  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  were  gilding  the  green 
slopes  above  the  little  town. 

In  Pallanza,  opposite  the  twin  enchanted  isles,  we 
met  the  stream  of  travellers  who  come  down  from  the 
Alps  and  overrun  Italy  at  this  season  of  the  year,  and  we, 
on  our  northward  journey,  reaped  the  advantage  of  this 
migration.  The  driver  of  a  capacious  six-horse  carriage, 
who  had  just  come  over  the  Simplon  and  deposited  his 
party,  was  anxious  to  return  quickly  for  other  passengers, 
and  was  willing  to  take  us  over  the  pass,  a  trip  of  two 
days,  for  a  moderate  sum  rather  than  return  entirely 
empty.  Travellers  of  the  present  generation  have  no 
conception  of  the  beauty  of  such  a  journey  without 
steam  over  an  Alpine  pass,  and  thus  miss  one  of  the  most 
glorious  enjoyments  upon  God's  earth.  They  can  have 
no  idea  of  the  exhilaration  that  one  feels  amid  the  realm 
of  Alpine  summits,  glaciers  and  snow-capped  peaks,  or 
of  the  views  that  delight  the  eye  when  some  green  pasture 


IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  AGAIN  229 

or  peaceful  meadow  bottom  spreads  out  amid  the  lonely 
grandeur  of  these  crags  and  mountain  fastnesses — they 
know  not  the  true  joy  and  poesy  of  travel. 

We  were  favoured  by  perfect  weather.  Upon  the 
summit  of  the  pass  the  sun  shone  warm,  and  a  slight 
breeze  blew,  so  that  it  seemed  like  summer  come  again. 
We  spent  the  night  in  the  valley  of  the  Rhone,  and  the 
next  day  were  obliged  to  resort  to  steam  again  at  Siere; 
dust  and  heat  accompanied  us  to  the  shores  of  Lake 
Leman,  the  sight  of  which  evoked  Voltaire's  enthusiastic 
"  Mon  lac  est  le  premier!  " 

When  we  returned  to  Gotha  the  guests  at  the  Observa 
tory  had  departed,  and  we  were  therefore  doubly  welcome. 
We  took  up  our  abode  on  the  ground  floor,  where  Taylor 
could  work  undisturbed,  while  my  parents,  at  the  ap 
proach  of  autumn,  retired  to  the  rooms  of  the  upper 
story.  My  father's  health  had  not  improved  of  late, 
and  since  his  eyesight  had  suffered  as  well,  it  was  a  satis 
faction  to  us  to  be  able  to  amuse  the  dear  old  man  during 
the  long  evenings  by  reading  aloud  and  talking  with  him, 
and  at  the  same  time  to  relieve  my  mother  in  her  arduous 
task.  In  the  past  winter  my  father  had  taught  her  to 
play  chess  with  him,  and  they  had  played  daily  from 
five  to  seven  o'clock.  "  It  often  fatigued  me  very  much," 
said  my  valiant  little  mother,  "but  I  was  glad  to  give  him 
this  pleasure."  And  she  accomplished  even  more. 
Just  as  she  had  formerly  mastered  the  rudiments  of 
Latin,  in  order  to  help  my  brothers  with  their  lessons,  so 
she  learned  in  the  course  of  time  to  read  mathematical 
formulae  to  her  almost  blind  husband,  and  under  his 
supervision  corrected  the  proof  sheets  of  the  scientific 
works  that  he  published  in  his  last  years. 


2 30  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

During  the  course  of  this  sojourn  in  Germany  my 
husband  received  many  marks  of  distinction.  He  had 
become  endeared  to  my  compatriots,  particularly  since 
he  had  rendered  "Faust"  comprehensible  to  English- 
speaking  people  in  the  very  spirit  of  the  great  poet.  In 
consequence  of  this  feat,  the  Grand  Duke  of  Weimar 
invited  him  one  day  in  autumn  to  dinner  in  the  Wartburg, 
where  the  ducal  family  were  hunting  the  mountain  cock.* 
On  this  occasion  was  established  the  entente  cordiale,  that 
continued  between  the  grand  ducal  family  of  Weimarrand 
Taylor  until  the  latter's  death.  The  Grand  Duke 
even  then  promised  him  every  assistance  in  regard  to  his 
plan  of  the  double  biography,  which  filled  my  husband 
with  encouragement.  While  he  was  in  Germany  he  seized 
every  opportunity  that  opened  before  him  to  collect 
material  for  this  task,  and  he  might  have  begun  work  at 
once  if  poetic  conceptions  had  not  filled  his  brain  and 
left  him  no  peace  until  he  had  rid  himself  of  them.  Thus, 
during  this  autumn  at  Gotha  the  "half  dramatic,  half 
idyllic"  tale  entitled  "Lars"  was  written  in  rhymeless 
iambic  verse.  During  October  the  poem,  which  had 
taken  six  years  to  ripen  in  his  mind,  flowed  from  his  pen. 
"It  returned  upon  my  indolence  this  summer,"  he 
wrote  to  a  friend,  "and  would  take  no  denial."  And 
later,  in  the  midst  of  his  work,  he  wrote :  "It  has  been 
maturing  in  my  head  for  so  many  years  that  all  the  inci 
dents  are  complete  in  advance. "  The  action  of  the  poem, 
the  scene  of  which  is  laid  partly  in  the  fields  and  fjords  of 
Norway,  partly  in  the  idyllic  neighbourhood  of  Hockessin 
(near  Kennett),  reaches  its  climax  in  the  conflict  between 
the  peaceful,  forgiving  spirit  of  the  Quaker  and  the 

*Auerhahn  (Tetrao  urogallus). 


IN  THE   OLD   WORLD  AGAIN  231 

Berserker  rage  of  the  Norseman,  in  which  the  former  is 
victorious.  The  author  dedicated  the  rythmically  beau 
tiful,  picturesque  tale  to  his  old  friend,  the  Quaker  poet 
John  G.  Whittier. 

Besides  this  product  of  his  creative  faculty,  and  a 
number  of  shorter  lyric  poems,  another  poetic  work  saw 
the  light  while  he  remained  in  Germany.  Even  while 
he  was  at  work  on  "  Lars,"  he  had  mentioned  in  a  letter 
to  his  friend  T.  B.  Aldrich  that  the  latter  had  covered  or 
overlaid  another  idea,  which  now  stood  clear  before  his 
mind. 

But  fate  intervened  to  prevent  him,  for  the  present, 
from  realising  this  last-mentioned  conception.  Greeley's 
sudden  death  at  the  beginning  of  December  was  an  event 
of  far-reaching  tragic  importance  to  Bayard  Taylor. 
The  unexpected  news  was  communicated  to  him  in  the 
midst  of  the  good  fellowship  of  a  dinner  with  the  family 
of  a  friend.  One  of  the  guests  casually  remarked  that 
Greeley's  death  had  been  announced  by  cable  that 
morning.  No  one  present  was  aware  how  profound  a 
shock  this  occurrence  was  to  my  husband.  For  Taylor 
not  only  lost  in  him  an  old  and  tried  friend,  proved  in 
word  and  deed,  but  the  future  of  the  Tribune  as  well,  the 
paper  in  which  his  entire  capital  was  invested,  was 
rendered  most  precarious  by  this  catastrophe.  As  soon 
as  we  had  risen  from  dinner  he  whispered  to  me:  "We 
must  go,  I  cannot  stay  here  any  longer! " 

Anxious  weeks  followed.  The  fatality  that  he  was  not 
at  home  and  on  the  spot,  but  was  doomed  to  wait  many 
days  for  detailed  news  to  reach  him,  depressed  him 
during  this  period  of  uncertainty  to  a  degree  unusual  with 
him,  whose  courage  had  never  failed  before.  He  had 


232  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

counted  upon  a  continuance  of  the  large  profits  that  the 
paper  had  hitherto  yielded.  After  curtailing  the  expenses 
of  his  property,  this  income  was  to  enable  him  to  devote 
himself  in  future  without  hindrance  to  his  creative  work, 
and  especially  to  allow  him  to  carry  out  his  plans  in  regard 
to  the  biography  of  Goethe  and  Schiller.  This  hope  now 
seemed  suddenly  shattered,  the  ground  was  slipping 
beneath  his  feet;  for  Greeley,  the  founder  of  the  great 
newspaper,  was  also  its  preserver — the  soul  of  the  under 
taking.  Weeks  passed  before  Taylor  heard  that  the 
paper  did  not  fall  with  its  founder's  death,  but  rather  was 
re-established  upon  a  sure  foundation  by  its  former 
assistant  editor,  Whitelaw  Reid.  A  feature  of  this  re 
organisation  was  the  erection  of  a  new,  very  expensive 
building,  entailing  a  burden  of  debt,  that  precluded  the 
payment  of  any  interest  for  ten  years  to  come  upon  the 
capital  invested  by  the  shareholders. 

My  husband  was  therefore  obliged  to  look  for  remunera 
tive  work,  and  this  was  the  only  consideration  that 
induced  him  to  undertake  a  "History  of  Germany"  for 
schools,  in  one  volume.  This  task,  including  the  neces 
sary  study  of  authorities,  accompanied  him  upon  his 
wanderings  until  its  completion  the  following  summer. 
For  the  rigorous  climate  of  the  plateau  of  Gotha  drove 
us  south  again  early  in  1873.  On  the  way  we  left  our 
daughter  at  an  excellent  boarding  school  in  Baden- 
Baden,  and  went  to  Florence,  where  we  spent  two  months 
among  old  and  new  acquaintances.  One  evening  in  the 
Palazzo  Orsini,  where  our  old  friends  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James 
Lorimer  Graham  had  established  themselves,  we  met  the 
Sage  of  Concord  and  his  daughter,  who  were  on  their 
way  back  from  Egypt.  After  dinner  the  gentlemen 


IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  AGAIN  233 

were  smoking  in  the  library  and  we  ladies  sat  in  the 
drawing-room  around  a  fire  and  talked.  Suddenly  the 
chairs  upon  which  we  sat  began  to  rock,  the  entire  room 
seemed  to  sway  to  and  fro — "An  earthquake!"  we 
exclaimed,  springing  to  our  feet.  We  rushed  into  the 
library,  where  the  gentlemen  had  also  started  from  their 
seats,  with  the  exception  of  one,  who  remained  quietly 
in  his  place.  It  was  Emerson,  who  preserved  his  equa 
nimity  as  a  true  philosopher,  and  gave  absolutely  no 
outward  sign  of  excitement. 

As  every  person  with  a  claim  to  distinction  possessed 
the  entree  of  the  Palazzo  Orsini,  "Ouida"  *  was  one  of 
the  guests  at  an  afternoon  reception.  Mrs.  Graham  told 
me:  "She  wore  a  white  cashmere  dress  with  an  ex 
traordinarily  long  train.  After  greeting  me  she  went 
into  the  middle  of  the  room  and  turned  herself  around  a 
number  of  times,  so  that  her  train  formed  a  sort  of  hassock, 
upon  which  she  sat  down." 

At  the  end  of  April  we  returned  to  Gotha.  Thence 
Taylor  repaired  to  Vienna  in  the  interests  of  the  Tribune, 
in  order  to  report  the  International  Exposition.  During 
this  separation  of  a  month  we  kept  up  an  almost  daily 
correspondence,  from  which  I  quote  the  following  ex 
tracts  : 

"HOTEL  TAUBER. 

"Thursday  evening, 
"April  24,  1873. 

"I  reached  here  about  four  o'clock,  tired  enough  of 
the  journey.  .  .  ..  There  was  no  trouble  at  Boden- 
bach,  the  frontier;  no  passport  required.  .  .  .  Got  a 
cup  of  coffee  at  Prague,  and  some  soup  at  Briinn ;  but 
I  was  hungry,  tired  and  dirty  when  I  arrived. 

*  Louise  de  la  Rame'e,  the  well-known  authoress. 


234  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

"  What !  no  soap  ?  *  No !  But  he  didn't  die  of  it ;  only 
he  couldn't  get  his  hands  quite  clean  before  dinner,  and 
afterwards  he  went  out  and  bought  a  cake  for  35  kreuzers." 

In  my  answer  to  this  letter  I  was  able  to  exculpate 
myself.  I  replied,  "What!  no  soap?  Yes!  but  though 
he  did  not  die  of  it,  he  might  have  found  it  in  his  trunk, 
rosy  and  round,  wrapped  in  a  clean  piece  of  paper,  and 
he  might  have  washed  his  hands  clean,  quite  clean  before 
dinner,  and  thereby  saved  35  kreuzers!" 

Taylor,  writing  on  April  25th,  complained  of  an  icy 
wind  that  blew  down  from  the  Alps,  and  then  continued : 

"To-day  Stillman  made  arrangements  for  the  tele 
graphing  to  England  and  we  agreed  on  our  plan  for  the 
Opening.  We  are  certainly  stronger  than  any  other 
N.  Y.  paper  now,  and  hope  to  beat  them  all.  .  .  ." 

"Tuesday  morning,  April  29. 

"Yesterday  Young,  of  the  Herald,  Professor  Hart 
for  the  World,  and  E.  V.  Smalley  of  the  Tribune  arrived. 
In  the  evening  we  had  the  grand  banquet  given  by  the 
Press.  There  were  about  200  persons  present.  Strauss 
was  there  with  his  band,  the  dinner  was  gorgeous,  the 
atmosphere  gemuthlich,  but — there  was  no  arrangement 
and  no  order,  from  first  to  last.  After  the  President's 
speech,  Edmund  Yates,  the  English  novelist,  was  an 
nounced  as  an  American,  coolly  got  up  and  spoke  for  the 
American  Press.  This  made  us  Americans  furious,  and 
I  insisted  on  being  heard.  Finally,  when  Julius  Roden- 
berg  mentioned  me  very  handsomely  as  an  Erzamerikaner 
— a  hint  which  Yates  and  the  others  understood,  I  spoke 
for  fifteen  minutes,  constantly  interrupted  with  cheers 

*  Bayard  Taylor  prided  himself  upon  the  fact  that  he  learned  Foote's 
celebrated  nonsense,  which  is  too  well  known  to  need  quotation,  by 
heart  in  the  space  of  seven  minutes. 


IN  THE   OLD  WORLD  AGAIN  235 

and  bravos!  and  when  I  ceased  the  Viennese  editors 
crowded  around  me,  shaking  hands,  and  thanking  me  for 
having  said  the  best  words  spoken  during  the  evening. 
It  was  a  complete  triumph.  .  .  .  The  Germans 
were  delighted  with  a  word  which  they  said  I  invented — 
Weltgemuthlichkeit. ' ' 

"HOTEL  TAUBER, 
"Thursday  evening,  May  i. 

"  This  has  been  a  busy  and  rather  hard  day  for  me ;  but 
it  is  now  happily  over.  ...  I  had  a  great  deal  of 
running  to  get  the  official  speeches  this  morning,  and  to 
translate  them  before  going  to  the  Expos,  then  I  had 
to  wait  nearly  two  hours,  in  the  cold  Rotunda,  writing 
all  the  time,  before  the  Imperial  party  came.  The 
Feierlichkeiten  were  simple  and  sensible,  but  only  imposing 
from  the  space,  in  which  all  details  were  swallowed  up. 
About  12,000  people  were  on  hand. 

"I  got  out  and  back  to  the  Tribune  Agency  by  2 
o'clock,  and  went  on  writing  until  3^,  when  I  drove  to 
the  telegraph  office  with  the  completed  MS.  to  give  it 
into  Stillman's  hands.  We  got  the  first  use  of  the 
telegraph  and  shall  keep  it  until  4  columns  (2  of  which  I 
wrote)  are  sent  to  Queenstown  for  tomorrow's  steamer. 
The  Herald,  London  News,  etc.  are  all  behind  us.  I  feel 
sure  we  have  beaten  everybody. 

I  must  stop.  It  is  nearly  6,  when  Stillman  will  return, 
and  neither  he  nor  I  have  had  anything  since  a  cup  of 
coffee  at  7  this  morning." 

"  VIENNA,  Saturday  evening, 

"May  17,  1873. 

"My  time  is  getting  short,  and  I  must  hurry  up  with 
my  remaining  work.  I  have  now  begun  with  my  ninth 
letter  to  the  Trib.  and  have  only  one  more  to  write.  That 
will  make  ten  letters  and  two  translations  which  I  have 


236  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

sent,  besides  doing  all  the  public  speaking  for  the  United 
States.  I  think  I  have  fairly  accomplished  all  that  could 
be  expected  of  me.  This  morning  the  Neue  Freie  Presse 
contains  a  long  original  article  on  the  Tribune,  which  / 
wrote  for  it,  and  which  the  Tribune  now  can,  and  probably 
will,  use  to  its  own  glory.  I  shall  leave  moreover,  with 
the  knowledge  that  the  hardest  work  is  over,  and  I  can 
easily  be  spared.  .  .  .  How  I  shall  rejoice  to  get 
back  to  my  quiet,  steady  work!  It  seems  to  me  it  will  be 
easier  and  pleasanter  than  ever,  after  this  wear  and  tear." 

During  the  summer  we  lived  partly  with  my  parents 
and  partly  in  the  pleasant  little  mountain  town  of 
Friedrichroda,  where  we  felt  almost  as  much  at  home  as  in 
my  native  place.  Side  by  side  with  the  "  History  of 
Germany,"  at  which  my  husband  worked  diligently,  the 
collection  of  material  for  the  biography  of  Goethe  and 
Schiller  occupied  him  continuously;  but  for  the  present 
this  was  stored  away  in  his  wonderfully  retentive  memory. 

Fate  had  decreed  that  a  great  sorrow  was  to  befall  my 
aged  parents  during  this  summer.  On  June  26th  my 
dearly  beloved  sister,  Ida  Repsold,  died  suddenly  in 
Hamburg,  whither  she  had  followed  her  husband  when 
a  bride,  in  her  thirtieth  year.  Even  my  father,  who 
formerly  preserved  a  stoical  calm  on  similar  occasions, 
lost  his  composure  at  this  exceptionally  heavy  blow. 
For  many  days  he  was  inconsolable  in  his  grief,  then, 
suddenly,  his  spirit  seemed  to  be  at  peace.  He  was 
enigmatical  when  asked  for  an  explanation  of  the  change. 
"You  would  not  believe  me,"  he  said,  "if  I  should  tell 
you  how  it  came  about."  This  from  my  father,  who  was 
surely  not  inclined  to  mysticism,  filled  us  with  wonder 
and  left  a  deep  impression.  In  August  the  business  of 
the  Commission  for  the  Transit  of  Venus,  of  which  my 


IN  THE   OLD   WORLD  AGAIN  237 

father  was  the  president,  called  him  to  Hannover,  and  my 
mother  accompanied  him.  During  my  parents'  absence, 
while  we  were  left  behind  to  care  for  their  house,  my 
husband's  imagination  began  to  stir  again  after  a  long 
period  of  inaction,  and  to  spur  him  on  to  renewed  poetic 
expression.  He  began  to  write  his  drama,  "  The  Prophet, ' ' 
and  composed  the  poem  "  Summer  Night,"  with  the  sub 
title  " Variations  of  Certain  Melodies."  The  latter 
points  to  the  lyrical  suggestions  he  received  from  the 
impassioned  strains  of  Beethoven's  immortal  setting  of 
"Adelaida"  and  other  verses  of  Matthison,*  combined 
with  echoes  from  EichendorfFs  f  enchanting,  dreamy 
"Sehnsucht,"  and  his  verses: 

*  F.  von  Matthison  was  a  poet  of  the  elegiac-sentimental  school  of 
German  poetry,  which  flourished  about  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  The  translation  of  his  poem  "Adelaida"  is  as  follows: 

Lonely  wanders  thy  friend  in  the  vernal  garden, 
Softly  streams  the  magic  light  around  him, 
Sifting  thro'  the  swaying  leaves  and  blossoms, 

Adelaida! 

In  the  mirrored  lake,  in  snows  eternal, 
In  the  golden  clouds  of  Day  departing, 
In  the  starry  heaven  shines  thine  image, 

Adelaida ! 

Twilight  zephyrs  in  tender  foliage  rustle, 
Lilies  of  the  valley  softly  tinkle, 
Wavelets  whisper  and  nightingales  warble 

Adelaida! 

On  my  grave  one  day  shall  bloom,  oh!  wonder, 
From  the  ashes  of  my  heart  a  flower 
On  whose  every  purple  leaf  thou  shinest, 

Adelaida!  L.  B.  T.  K. 

f  A  noted  poet  of  the  romantic  school.  He  lived  in  the  first  half  of 
the  last  century,  and  is  famed  principally  for  his  songs  and  lyrics. 
The  first  stanza  of  "Sehnsucht"  runs  thus: 

In  the  glimmer  of  golden  starlight 

I  stood  at  the  casement  alone, 

And  heard  thro'  the  silent  far  night 

A  postilion's  bugle  tone. 

My  heart  in  my  bosom  was  burning 

And  longing  o'erpowered  me  quite: 

"Ah!  would  that  I  could  be  journeying 

In  the  glorious  summer  night!"  L.  B.  T.  K. 


238  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

"Sind's    Nachtigallen 
Wieder  was  ruft, 
Lerchen  die  schallen 
Aus  warmer  Luft?"* 


The  mingling  of  these  melodies  furnish  the  theme  of 
Bayard  Taylor's  "Summer  Night,"  which  he  clothed 
in  the  form  of  a  Sonatina. 

In  October  Taylor  repaired  to  Weimar  for  the  purpose 
of  making  local  studies  for  the  biography,  while  I  went 
to  Leipzig  for  treatment  by  a  celebrated  specialist.  As 
the  two  cities  are  not  very  far  apart,  my  husband  fre 
quently  visited  me  and  in  the  intervals  we  exchanged 
letters,  from  which  I  quote: 

"RUSSISCHER  HOP,  Weimar, 
"  Monday  morning,  Oct.  13,  1873. 

"There  came  a  letter  of  8  or  10  pages  from  Stedman. 
He  assures  me  that  a  letter  about  Lars  must  have 
miscarried;  says  the  poem  is  genuine  and  will  last. 
Then  he  pours  out  his  disgust  at  the  sensational  taste  of 
the  day,  and  says  everything  which  I  have  been  saying 
for  two  years  past.  Finally  he  writes — '/  strongly 
advise  you  to  try  a  dramatic  poem  on  a  strictly  American 
subject  III '  f  .  .  .  Weimar  is  wonderfully  improved, 
and  I  know  I  shall  like  the  place  more  and  more.  It  is 
now  10  o'clock  and  this  must  go  to  the  post.  I  hope  I 
shall  hear  from  you  this  evening." 

*  Nightingales,  are  they 
Calling   there, 
Or  larks  high  soaring 
In  sunlit  air?  L.  B.  T.  K. 

t Taylor  had  already  resumed  work  upon  "The  Prophet,"  which 
treats  of  just  such  a  theme. 


Q    E 


IN  THE   OLD   WORLD  AGAIN  239 

"WEIMAR, 
"Monday  night,  10  P.  M. 

"Oct.  13,  1873. 

"  I  called  on  Scholl  *  this  afternoon,  and  found  him 
cheery  and  chatty.  .  .  .  The  first  thing  S.  did  was  to 
introduce  me  to  Dr.  Kohler,  and  then  we  three  walked 
to  Ober- Weimar  and  took  coffee.  .  .  .  The  day  has 
been  heavenly,  and  the  park  along  the  Ilm  is  enchanting. 
I  have  done  three  hours'  walking,  and  something  else, 
which  I  enclose,  f  You  will  see  that  the  air  of  Weimar 
is  favorable.  The  poem  has  been  in  my  head  for  three 
months,  but  I  could  not  find  the  proper  measure  for  it. 
This  morning,  in  bed,  I  dreamed  it,  and  on  waking  re 
membered  part  of  the  first  verse  and  the  character  of  the 
whole.  I  am  curious  to  know  what  impression  it  makes 
on  you.  Now,  I  shall  revise  the  'Summer  Night'  a 
little,  and  send  both  to  the  Atlantic."  % 

"Wednesday  morning. 

"Oct.  15,  1873. 

"Yesterday,  I  revised  the  'Summer  Night,'  and  sent 
off  both  poems.  ...  I  inclose  the  principal  changes. 
The  first  passage  follows  the  lines  about  the  postillion's 
horn  in  the  Andante,  which  (as  you  will  see)  it  closes,  and 
then  begins  a  new  Adagio,  the  end  of  which  is  the  former 
end  of  the  Andante.  The  third  part  (the  former  Adagio) 
is  now  called  Appassionato.  There  are  a  few  changes 
here  and  there,  and  also  in  the  concluding  Capriccioso, 
which  now  ends  differently,  as  you  will  see.  The  original 
ending  was  a  little  too  effeminate,  even  for  a  fancy;  but 
now,  by  'forgetting  the  part,'  that  reproach  is  taken 
away.  I  hope  you  will  understand  all  this:  I  can't 
make  it  any  clearer. 

*  Adolph  SchSll,  at  the  head  of  the  Grand  Ducal  Library, 
f  "The  Two  Homes." 

JThe  editor  did  not  accept  "Summer  Night,"  probably  because  in  his 
opinion  it  was  too  impassioned.  It  was  published  later  in  the  Galaxy. 


24o  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

"  As  for  the  '  Two  Homes '  the  idea  is  as  old  as  the  hills— 
that  people  mutually  crave  each  other's  lot  in  life.  But 
the  way  in  which  I  tell  it  seems  to  me  entirely  original, 
and  the  measure  quite  satisfies  my  ear. 

"Getting  off  these  poems  and  writing  several  letters 
occupied  me  a  good  part  of  yesterday;  but  I  took  a  long 
walk  towards  evening.  Graf  Beust  left  a  card  for  me, 
and  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  Director  Ruland  (for 
merly  Prince  Albert's  secretary),  who  is  a  very  genial  and 
agreeable  man.  .  .  .  This  morning  is  dull  and  cloudy, 
but  not  cold.  I  have  my  window  open  all  day,  without 
being  too  cold  as  I  write.  Over  the  trees  of  the  Karls- 
platz  I  see  the  whole  spire  of  Herder's  church,  and  a 
little  bit  of  the  wood  on  the  way  to  Tieffurt.  Yesterday 
I  found  some  by-streets  with  walled  gardens,  looking 
quite  Italian.  As  I  passed  Goethe's  Gartenhaus,  and 
looked  through  the  gate,  I  found  myself  wondering 
whether  he  had  planted  the  bed  of  marigolds  under  the 
window. " 

"Thursday  morning. 

"Oct.   16,   1873. 

"In  the  afternoon  I  walked  to  Belvedere  (f  Stunde) 
with  Dr.  Kohler.  .  .  .  When  I  came  back  to  the 
hotel,  I  found  that  Hofrath  Marshall  (English  Vorleser 
for  the  Princesses)  had  called  upon  me.  I  shall  try  to 
see  him  to-day.  Yesterday  I  saw  Herr  von  Gleichen  * 
at  the  table — an  eccentric  looking  man,  with  nothing  of 
either  Schiller  or  Lotte  in  his  face.  I  shall  make  his 
acquaintance  by  degrees.  Director  Ruland  sits  at  the 
head  of  the  table  d'h6te,  and  the  others  have  their 
stamm-plsices  near  him.  .  .  .  The  young  Goethes 
are  in  Jena  just  now.  I've  read  Scholl's  review  of  Lewes, 
which 'is  very  severe.  S.'s  explanation  of  the  Frederike 
episode  is  exactly  my  own. 

*Schiller's  grandson  (the  son  of  his  daughter  Emilie),  a  painter  of 
landscapes.  In  a  letter  to  his  daughter  Taylor  said,  "They  are  all 
grandsons  here,  and  not  poets."  L.  B.  T.  K. 


IN  THE  OLD   WORLD   AGAIN  241 

"Well — after  my  running  about  yesterday,  I  wrote  two 
pages  of  the  'Prophet'  in  the  evening,  and  mean  to  do  a 
little  every  day.  By  the  bye  I  had  already  changed  the 
5th  stanza  of  the  'Two  Homes.'  It  now  ends  thus: 

'"And  over  the  orchards,  near  at  hand, 
The  gable  shone  on  the  quiet  land, 
And  far  away  was  the  mountain!' 

"  Every  day  I  like  Weimar  more.  From  all  I  hear, 
the  Hof  is  the  reverse  of  exclusive,  and  the  Adel  are  no 
stiffer  then  anywhere  else.  .  .  .  When  shall  I  visit 
you?  Saturday,  Sunday  or  Monday?" 

Friday  morning. 

"Oct.   17,  1873. 

"Another  wonderful  day.  I  am  getting  on  rapidly. 
Yesterday  I  called  on  Geh:  Hofrath  Marshall,  a  gentle 
man  and  scholar,  with  the  soul  of  a  poet.  He  thinks 
Emerson  is  nearer  what  Plato  was  than  any  other  man  in 
the  world.  In  the  evening  I  went  to  the  theatre  to  see 
'Die  letzte  Hexe'  a  Comedy.  It  was  capitally  played. 
After,  while  drinking  Vienna  beer  in  the  Gastzimmer, 
Herr  von  Gleichen  came  and  sat  opposite,  in  company 
with  an  intelligent,  heavy-bearded  man,  who  proved  to 
be  Baron  v.  Loen,  a  relative  of  Goethe  on  the  Textor 
side,  and  Director  of  the  Theatre  here.  I  came  gradually 
into  conversation  with  both,  and  liked  Gleichen  more, 
the  more  I  saw  of  him.  ...  He  was  so  simple  in  his 
manners,  so  kind  and  cordial,  that  I  think  we  shall  be 
friends.  I  told  him  I  might  call  upon  him  for  some  as 
sistance  (not  saying  in  what  form).  He  gave  me  his 
hand  at  once,  and  said:  'I  will  do  everything  I  can.' 
This  morning  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Scotchman 
Hamilton,  the  only  friend  of  the  Goethes,  and  the  only 
individual  who  has  any  influence  with  them. 
He  said  to  me,  among  other  things:  'As  you  are  not  a 


242  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

German,  I  think  Wolf  would  be  willing  to  show  you  the 
Nachlass.'  Wolf  is  expected  every  day,  and  as  Hamilton 
seems  to  be  a  good-hearted  fellow,  and  says  he  is  glad  I 
am  undertaking  the  biography,  I  think  I  may  reach  the 
Goethes  from  the  right  side. 

"Moreover,  I  called  on  Gerard  Rohlf  yesterday. 
After  this  I  wrote  three  more  pages  of  the  'Prophet.' 
You  see  my  time  is  pretty  well  filled  up." 


"Saturday  morning,  Oct.  18,  1873. 
" .  .  .  I  can't  tell  you  how  much  it  encourages  me 
to  find  every  one  of  my  leading  impressions  and  conclu 
sions  in  regard  to  Goethe,  Schiller,  and  their  intercourse, 
confirmed  by  everything  I  hear  and  by  every  competent 
person  I  meet.  ,  .  .  I  have  nothing  more  to  send 
you,  for  I  shall  bring  the  new  scenes  with  me.  I  write 
something,  whether  much  or  little,  every  day,  and  find 
it  the  only  way  to  prevent  the  Goethe  interests  from 
interrupting  me.  I  want  to  go  on  with  the  main  action 
while  I  am  possessed  with  it.  The  scenes  can  afterwards 
be  shifted  or  rewritten,  if  necessary,  when  I  have  the 
drama  before  me  as  a  whole.  It  requires  a  different 
mode  of  work  from  such  a  poem  as  Lars,  for  instance,  and 
I  am  agreeably  surprised  to  find  how  readily  my  mind 
adapts  itself  to  the  new  requirements  put  upon  it." 

"Tuesday  4^  p.  M. 

"Oct.  21,   1873. 

"What  shall  I  tell  you?  That  the  day  is  raw  and 
gusty,  you  know ;  that  I  reached  here  punctually,  you  can 
easily  imagine.  My  room  looked  rather  bare  and  cold, 
coming  from  yours ;  but  I  have  a  fire,  and  shall  soon  get 
used  to  it.  There's  a  storm  brewing,  I  think,  and  I  must 
take  a  walk  this  evening  because  I  may  have  no  chance 
to-morrow.  The  circle  at  the  end  of  the  table  took  me 
back  like  an  old  member." 


IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  AGAIN  243 

"Thursday  morning,  Oct.  23,  1873. 
"I  spent  two  hours  with  Marshall  on  Tuesday  evening: 
we  talked  Goethe,  Shakespeare  and  Coleridge  and  drank 
a  bottle  of  Burgundy.  Yesterday  he  paid  me  a  long 
visit.  He  has  been  unwell  for  weeks,  but  says  the  talk 
and  the  wine  together  restored  him  more  than  all  the 
medicine  he  has  taken.  In  the  afternoon  Gleichen  paid 
me  a  visit,  and  after  the  opera — Euryanthe,  which  I 
heard — he  talked  with  me  until  near  midnight.  Also 
I  took  a  long  walk  yesterday,  and  'broke  ground'  on 
Act  III." 

"Friday  morning,   Oct.  24,  1873. 

"  I  get  on  slowly  with  Act  III.  It  is  full  of  difficulties — 
yet,  if  I  am  lucky  to-day  and  to-morrow,  I  shall  have 
three  scenes  finished  by  Sunday.  There  are  some  things 
in  it  which  require  very  careful  management.  .  .  . 

"This  is  all  I  have  to  report,  to-day.  It  is  so  dark  and 
windy  outside  that  I  expect  to  work  well  in  my  room; 
but  the  Park  will  probably  draw  me  out  before  evening." 

"Saturday,    Oct.    25,    1873. 

"  I  found  Preller  in  his  atelier  yesterday,  a  short  stumpy 
man  of  70.  He  was  very  polite  and  kind:  to-night  I  am 
to  call  at  his  house.  I  plagued  my  head  a  great  deal 
with  'The  Prophet'  yesterday,  but  the  knot  came  loose 
while  I  walked  in  the  Park,  and  now  I  have  but  one  more 
rough  place  in  this  Act.  .  .  . 

"Gleichen,  Schennis  and  Loen  are  excellent  company, 
but  I  still  like  the  first  best.  He  has  something  of 
Schiller's  temperament — both  the  strong  and  weak 
points,  and  that  honest  goodness  of  heart  which  all  who 
stood  near  to  Schiller  found  in  him." 

"Monday  morning,  Oct.  27,  1873. 
"I  had  a  quiet  but  pleasant  day  in  Gotha.     .     .     . 


244  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

Your  father  .  .  .  went  out  with  Fritz  to  walk, 
but  was  driven  back  by  the  rain.  He  has  given  up 
some  technical  business  connected  with  the  Venus, 
which  is  a  good  thing.  .  .  .  I've  unravelled  all  the 
tangles  in  my  3rd  Act,  and  fully  expect  to  finish  it  this 
week.  The  4th  Act  will  give  me  some  bother,  but  the 
5th  not  a  great  deal." 

"Tuesday  morning, 
"Oct.  28,   1873. 

"  Yesterday  ...  in  the  evening  I  went  to  Preller 's 
house,  and  was  received  most  cordially  by  him  and  his 
wife.  In  the  course  of  an  hour  such  an  understanding 
was  established,  that  he  offered  to  tell  me  everything  he 
knew,  brought  out  his  drawing  of  the  dead  Goethe  .  .  . 
and  voluntarily  promised  to  trace  me  a  copy!  He  has  a 
cast  of  Trippe!' s  bust  of  G.  and  when  I  told  him  that  I 
had  it,  with  the  Venus  of  Milo  in  the  other  corner,  as 
man  and  woman,  he  got  up  without  a  word,  took  hold  of 
my  arm  and  led  me  to  the  Venus  of  Milo  in  the  opposite 
corner  of  his  room!  He  is  a  vigorous  original  character, 
talks  a  very  broad  Eisenach  dialect,  brings  out  now  and 
then  a  strong  word  that  has  the  force  of  an  oath,  yet  is 
brimful  of  sense  and  intelligence. 

" .  .  .  One  or  two  of  the  younger  men  here  seemed 
to  be  doubtful  whether  I  would  get  anything  out  of 
Preller :  this  is  my  first  experience !  I  like  him  hugely. 

"Act  III.  moves  forwards.  I  am  in  the  5th  scene — 
there  will  be  7  or  8,  I'm  not  certain  which.  I  puzzle 
myself,  wondering  whether  you'll  like  this  or  that  pas 
sage,  but  am  never  quite  sure." 

"Thursday,  Weimar.  Oct.  30,  '73. 

"  I  am  on  the  7th  and  last  scene,  which  will  be  finished 
to-morrow,  so  I  can  give  you  the  whole  act  when  I  come. 

"To-night  I  go  to  Preller  again.  Wolf.  v.  Goethe  has 
returned,  as  I  learned  yesterday,  and  I  must  try  to  make 
his  acquaintance.  ... 


IN  THE   OLD   WORLD  AGAIN  245 

"  To-day  is  very  dull,  but  less  raw  and  cold  than  yester 
day.  I  am  in  good  condition,  not  the  least  (apparently) 
ange griff  en  by  the  tragedy;  but  then  I  have  gone  over 
the  passionate  scenes  many  times  in  advance.  Adios, 
mi  buen  amada!" 

"  Friday  morning,  Oct.  31,  1873. 

"  I  will,  after  all,  write  two  lines  to  repeat  that  I  am 
coming  to-morrow  evening.  Act  III.  is  finished,  and  I 
am  tolerably  satisfied  with  it.  I  had  another  hour  and  a 
half  with  Preller  last  night,  hearing  many  interesting 
little  particulars.  .  .  .  und  so  auf  M  or  gen!" 

"Monday,    3!   Nov.    3. 

"I  had  a  lovely  trip — such  soft,  pure  sunshine,  the 
willow,  alder  and  oak  trees  green,  and  the  meadows  so 
fresh!  It  is  a  heavenly  day.  Reached  the  table  before 
most  of  the  others.  Hamilton  arrived  3  hours  before  me. 
He  has  just  gone  to  call  on  Wolf.  v.  Goethe,  and  will  go 
with  me  to  Maltzahn,  to-morrow  (M.  is  the  editor  of 
Lessing's  works).  .  .  .  Hamilton  saw  Bancroft  and 
H.  Grimm  in  Berlin.  That's  all  the  news.  As  for  me,  I 
feel  fresh  and  fine:  am  going  out  now  for  a  walk,  before 
sunset,  the  sky  and  air  are  so  tempting.  To-night  I  hope 
to  plant  the  first  spade  in  Act  IV." 

"  Wednesday  morning, 

"Nov.  5,  1873. 

"My  time  is  more  filled  up  than  before,  but  I  keep 
enough  for  work,  besides,  I  shall  finish  the  ist  scene  this 
morning,  and  it  is  not  an  easy  one. 

"Yesterday  I  found  Frl.  Frommann  at  home — an 
elegant,  refined,  intelligent  and  most  agreeable  little  old 
lady  of  73.  I  talked  with  her  for  more  than  an  hour,  and 
heard  many  particulars.  She  promised  to  show  me 
Minna  Herzlieb's  portrait,  when  I  come  again.  Is  much 
disappointed  with  Lewes.  To  me  she  is  really  an  acquisi 
tion.  Then  I  went  to  the  Goethe  house  and  asked  for 


246  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

Herr  v.  Goethe.  He  was  out  .  .  .  I  wrote  nearly 
all  the  afternoon,  and  in  the  evening  went  again  to 
Preller,  whom  I  found  surrounded,  as  usual,  by  artistic 
girls.  He  told  me  many  unimportant  anecdotes  of 
Goethe,  but  all  illustrative.  I  had  to  stay  for  supper, 
which  was  very  simple,  but  cheerful.  One  of  the  artistic 
ladies  waited  on  the  table. 

"  Hamilton  gave  me  three  anecdotes  of  Goethe  yester 
day,  which  he  had  from  Ottilie.  Frl.  Frommann  said 
that  Lewes  had  evidently  taken  many  things  from  com 
mon,  vulgar  sources  in  Weimar.  .  .  .  You  see  I'm 
getting  along  very  well.  '  The  Prophet '  is  a  great  deal  of 
society  for  me  at  hours  when  I  would  otherwise  be 
lonely;  and  my  staying  here  is  a  great  advantage  to  him" 

"Friday  morning, 

"Nov.  7,   1873. 

".  .  .  About  5,  I  went  to  Goethe's,  and  was  ad 
mitted  at  once.  Going  up  the  famous  staircase  (nothing 
like  as  stately  as  I  expected  to  find  it)  I  was  taken  to  the 
very  top  of  the  house,  under  the  roof.  The  old  woman 
ushered  me  into  a  very  little  sitting-room,  where  were 
two  oldish  ladies.  I  bowed  and  they  did;  then  G.  ap 
peared  at  a  side  door  and  took  me  into  a  larger  sitting- 
room  beyond.  I  was  amazed  to  find  him  so  handsome 
and  looking  so  much  like  a  weaker  and  more  fantastic 
Goethe.  He  remembered  you,  and  the  fact  that  you 
knew  and  liked  his  mother  evidently  made  him  more 
cordial  to  me.  But  Frl.  Frommann,  I  found,  had  already 
been  saying  a  word  for  me.  He  talked  for  an  hour,  hardly 
stopping  to  take  breath — about  his  relation  to  Goethe, 
the  Nachlass,  his  and  his  brother's  position,  etc.  I  let 
him  state  his  views,  without  contradiction  or  comment, 
which  he  seemed  to  like;  for  he  said  at  last:  'It's  a 
satisfaction  to  me,  to  hear  my  grandfather  spoken  of, 
without  being  forced  to  keep  silence  or  to  oppose  what 
I  hear/  He  is  full  of  singular  intellectual  twists,  and  it 


IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  AGAIN  247 

is  wonderful  how  they  are  nearly  all  perversions  of 
Goethe's  qualities.  I  was  brought  very  near  the  latter, 
through  him. 

"Well — an  went  off  favorably.  He  invited  me  to 
come  again  in  the  day-time,  and  see  Stieler's  portrait, 
Hackert's  and  Tischbein's  pictures,  etc. 

"I  shall  finish  scene  II.  to-day.  Farewell  for  24 
hours!" 

"Saturday  morning,  Nov.  8,   1873. 
" .     .     .     Yesterday  Gleichen  introduced  me  to  Herr 

v.  D ,  who     .     .     .     was  in  Egypt  and  the  Orient 

with  the  young  G.  D.  They  were  both  delighted  with 
Boker,  but  very  much  astonished  to  learn  that  he  was 
a  poet!  .  .  .  Scholl,  Marshall  and  the  others  who 
know  Wolf.  Goethe,  cannot  conceal  from  me  their  sincere 
relief  that  we  have  met  and  established  a  footing  of 
cordial  intercourse.  I  now  see  that  they  were  all  un 
certain,  though  they  did  not  say  so.  I  must  call  on 
Frommann  again  this  afternoon:  .  .  .  Then  I'll 
go  to  Pirch,*  having  found  where  he  lives,  and  that  he's 
Excellenz,  and  really  Prussian  Minister — a  sort  of  family- 
polite  position,  of  no  consequence  since  the  Empire  is 
begun.  ...  I  expect  to  be  half-way  through  with 
Act  IV.  by  to-night,  and  in  time  to  see  Wallenstein's 
Lager  and  the  Piccolomini" 

"Sunday  morning,  Nov.  9,  1873. 

"Yesterday  I  saw  Frl.  Frommann.  She  said  Wolf. 
Goethe  is  rather  astonished  at  himself,  yet  very  much 
satisfied,  that  he  was  so  frank  and  communicative  towards 
me!  She  has  known  him  all  his  life,  yet  she  says:  'I 
never  know  beforehand  how  I  shall  find  him,  and  how  he 
will  receive  what  I  say.' 

*Baron  von  Pirch,  who  was  attached  to  the  Prussian  Legation  at 
the  time  Taylor  was  in  charge  of  the  American  Legation  at  St.  Peters 
burg. 


248  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

"I  afterwards  went  to  Pirch's,  and  was  received  with 
great  cordiality.  She  .  .  .  remembered  nearly  all 
our  intercourse — how  you  and  Mrs.  Locock  were  presented 
at  the  same  time,  and  her  little  girl  came  to  play  with 
Lilian,  etc.  .  .  .  They  greet  you  and  hope  to  see 
you  here. 

"  Wallenstein's  Lager  was  one  of  the  most  perfect 
representations  I  ever  saw  on  any  stage.  How  I  enjoyed 
it!  The  theatre  was  so  crammed  that  I  barely  succeeded 
in  getting  the  last  seat.  ... 

"  I  finished  Scene  IV.  yesterday.  There  will  be  three 
more  in  the  Act,  but  they  are  selected  and  arranged  in  my 
mind,  so  I  shall  have  the  Act  done  by  Thursday,  at  the 
latest.  Scene  IV.  (what  it  should  be)  puzzled  me  until 
the  last  moment,  but  I'm  quite  satisfied  with  what  it  is." 

"Thursday,    Nov.    13,    1873. 

".  .  .  To-day  I  go  to  Wolf.  Goethe,  who  expects 
me,  at  1 2  ;  in  the  afternoon,  to  Pirch's.  I  hear  of  opinions 
in  circulation,  which  undoubtedly  help  me  in  every  way. 
For  instance,  Scholl  told  Marshall  that  his  showing  me 
the  MSS.  in  the  library  convinced  him  at  once  that  I 
knew  the  material  and  had  the  truest  instinct  for  what 
was  valuable  and  what  was  not.  ...  I  am  half 
through  with  the  yth  and  last  scene,  which  I  shall  finish 
to-day.  .  .  .  I  feel  quite  sure  I  can  write  Act  V. 
next  week,  as  all  the  threads  of  the  plot  are  now  drawn 
together.  Then  I'll  go  to  Leipzig  for  a  week.  .  .  . 
But  I  will  come  this  Saturday  also  for  I  must  read  you 
Act  IV.  before  I  write  Act  V." 

"WEIMAR,  Nov.  13. 

"I  finished  Act  IV.  just  before  12,  and  then  went  to 
Goethe,  with  whom  I  stayed  an  hour  and  a  half.  He 
was  thoroughly  gemutklich  and  agreeable,  showed  me 
many  things,  and  offered  to  show  me  all  the  rooms, 
collections,  etc.,  but  begged  me  to  wait  until  next  spring 
for  the  latter,  since  they  were  now  so  cold  and  dreary. 


IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  AGAIN  249 

Of  course  I  agreed — but  I  hope  nothing  will  come  between, 
to  interfere.  Then  he  took  me  into  the  garden,  and  we 
walked  up  and  down  Goethe's  walk  for  a  while,  under  his 
study  window.  I  pulled  a  rose-leaf,  saying  I  must  have 
something,  whereupon  he  said  you  must  have  something 
too,  and  gave  me  the  ivy-leaf,  which  I  enclose." 

"Thursday,  Nov.  18,  1873. 

"  I  am  invited  to  a  soiree  at  the  Erbgrossherzog's  this 
evening.  .  .  .  The  G.  D.  has  determined  to  keep 
away,  on  account  of  the  row  in  the  Kunstschule. 
Began  Act  V.  last  evening — couldn't  help  it.  To-day, 
D.  V.  I  shall  finish  Scene  II.  There's  no  use  of  waiting, 
while  I'm  in  the  humor  to  write.  I  shall  pay  two  or 
three  adieu  visits  this  afternoon,  and  so  get  comfortably 
through  by  Friday  morning." 

"Nov.  21,   1873. 

"The  Erb — G.   Duchess  was  very  agreeable:     .     .     . 

Frl.  v.  S was  also  charming  and  the  Countess  Y . 

Gleichen  was  there,  but  not  Goethe :  We  had  croquettes, 
venison  and  jelly  on  silver  plates,  and  there  was  no  stiff 

ceremony,  except  on  the  part  of  the  Excellenz  v.  W , 

whom  I  offended  by  talking  just  5  seconds  too  long  with 

Herr  v.  W before  I  saluted  her.     However,  I  sought 

her  out  afterward,  old  and  dragon-like  as  she  is,  and 
miselte  recht  ordentlich.  .  .  .  'The  Prophet'  calls  me, 
and  I'll  stop  here." 

Next  morning  in  Leipzig  my  husband  finished  his 
drama,  and  before  we  went  to  dinner  he  read  the  entire 
fifth  act  to  me.  This  conception  had  never  presented 
itself  to  him  in  other  than  the  dramatic  form ;  but  he  was 
fully  conscious  that  it  was  not  adapted  to  the  stage. 
The  motives  and  action  are  borrowed  from  the  home  life 
of  America.  The  farm,  the  camp  meeting,  the  religious 
element  that  stirs  the  country  population  so  deeply, 


250  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

the  evolution  of  a  new  sect,  for  which  the  unbounded 
and  uninhabited  West  offered  the  most  favourable  soil — 
all  this  could  belong  only  to  the  United  States.  The 
history  of  the  Mormons  served  him  as  a  background, 
but  the  characters,  as  well  as  the  plot  and  development 
of  the  drama,  were  the  author's  own  invention,  and,  as 
he  expressly  stated,  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  Mor 
mons.  To  unprejudiced  readers  of  the  Bible  the  drama 
and  what  the  author  intended  to  convey  are  easily  com 
prehensible,  as  the  tragedy  of  the  action  is  based  upon 
the  belief  in  the  divine  inspiration  of  the  scriptures  that 
precludes  any  other  than  the  literal  interpretation. 

When  the  drama  was  finished  the  author's  poetic 
energy  began  to  flag,  and  a  reaction  set  in  that  could 
not  fail  to  succeed  such  intense  mental  labour  mingled 
with  numerous  social  engagements.  A  period  of  relaxa 
tion  in  my  parent's  home  was  therefore  very  grateful 
to  my  husband.  The  month  of  December  passed  in 
cheerful  leisure.  We  lived,  as  Taylor  expressed  himself, 
"like  the  early  Christians,  not  taking  much  thought  of 
the  morrow,  yet  reasonably  happy  and  hopeful."  . 

One  circumstance  only — aside  from  the  frequent  indis 
positions  of  my  father,  which  caused  much  anxiety  on  his 
account — filled  us  with  dismay.  This  was  the  rigorous 
winter  climate  of  my  native  town,  that  began  to  manifest 
itself  in  a  disagreeable  way  about  the  solstice.  My 
husband's  health  as  well  as  my  own  required  that  we 
should  avoid  extreme  cold  and  take  refuge  in  the  South; 
and  in  order  to  reap  the  full  benefit  of  those  sunny  climes 
our  intention  this  time  was  to  proceed  to  Egypt.  The 
expense  of  the  trip  and  of  the  sojourn  by  the  Nile  was  to 
be  furnished  by  letters  to  the  Tribune  that  Taylor  had 


IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  AGAIN  251 

promised  to  write.  With  heavy  hearts  we  bade  adieu 
to  the  dear  old  folks,  and  with  slight  delays  we  travelled 
by  way  of  Naples  and  Messina  to  Alexandria,  and  thence 
to  Cairo. 

As  the  season  was  too  far  advanced  for  a  trip  up  the 
Nile,  we  were  perforce  obliged  to  content  ourselves  with 
the  excursion  to  the  Pyramids  of  Gizeh,  while  Taylor 
went  alone  to  the  Fayoum,  which  was  then  almost  terra 
incognita. 

An  unusually  cold,  rainy  winter  had  descended  upon 
the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean.  In  Cairo  the  temper 
ature  was  several  times  so  low  that  we  longed  for  a  fire. 
On  March  ist  snow  fell  in  Suez,  and  not  till  toward 
the  end  of  the  month  did  the  weather  improve,  when  the 
Khamsin  *  began  to  blow  and  brought  us  hot,  sunny  days. 

In  Naples  I  learned  of  the  death  of  my  beloved  father 
on  March  28th.  The  sad  news  was  first  communicated 
to  me  by  a  newspaper  notice,  and  letters  with  more 
detailed  information  reached  me  in  Rome,  whither  we 
hastened  without  delay.  My  father  had  died  peacefully 
after  a  short  illness.  His  bier  had  been  made  in  the 
upper  hall  of  the  Observatory,  and  a  wreath  of  laurel 
crowned  his  snowy  hair. 

With  short  interruptions  we  continued  our  journey 
Gothaward  till  we  arrived  in  the  orphaned  Observatory 
and  greeted  my  sorrowing  mother — a  most  painful  home 
coming  ! 

While  my  husband  again  tarried  a  short  time  in  Weimar, 
I  helped  my  mother  vacate  the  house,  which  belonged 
to  the  ducal  government.  My  father's  numerous  manu- 

*  Khamsin  (pronounced  Kamse'en)  is  the  Arabic  word  for  fifty,  a 
designation  of  the  southwest  wind,  which  blows  fifty  days  without 
interruption  from  the  Sahara  Desert.  L.  B.  T.  K. 


252  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

scripts,  the  products  of  an  enormous  industry,  were  given 
by  his  widow  to  the  Academy  of  Science  in  Leipzig.  The 
decorations  of  the  departed,  seven  in  number,  were 
returned  according  to  the  rule  to  the  governments  which 
had  conferred  them,  and  she  distributed  among  her 
children  most  of  the  valuable  heirlooms  that  had  de 
scended  to  her  from  her  parents  and  grandparents. 
In  Weimar  Taylor  made  the  acquaintance  of  Walther 
von  Goethe,  Wolf,  being  absent,  who  accorded  him  a 
reception  equally  friendly  as  his  brother  had  done,  and 
fulfilling  the  latter's  promise,  showed  him  the  rooms  of  his 
grandfather  and  various  articles  of  the  inheritance. 
Describing  a  tea  at  Belvedere,  with  the  grand  ducal 
family,  my  husband  wrote  to  me: 

"  They  were  as  amiable  and  agreeable  as  possible.  The 
two  Princesses  were  delighted  with  Lars,  and  had  sent  to 
England  for  more  of  my  works.  I  sat  beside  the  Grand 
Duchess.  There  were  only  two  Hofdamen  and  two 
Kammerherren — no  servants  during  tea.  The  Princess 
Marie  handed  me  cream,  sandwiches,  etc.  I  really 
enjoyed  the  evening  very  well,  and  managed  to  tell  the 
Herrschaften  various  things  they  didn't  know.  They 
are  all  thoroughly  good-hearted,  and  so  unceremonious 
that  I  can't  understand  how  the  Weimar  court  has  been 
misrepresented.  "* 

At  the  end  of  the  summer  we  bade  farewell  to  Germany, 
in  whose  soil  we  now  left  three  freshly  made  graves. t 


esting 

and 

Putnam's  Sons  in  a  volume  with  several  other  papers  under  the  title: 

"Critical  Essays  and  Literary  Notes." 

fMy  uncle,  August  Bufleb,  the  friend  and  Nile  companion  of  Bayard 
Taylor,  had  also  died  in  the  summer  of  1874. 


IN  THE   OLD   WORLD  AGAIN  253 

On  the  other  side  also  we  found  changes;  beside  Horace 
Greeley,  another  friend  of  old  standing,  George  P.  Put 
nam,  Taylor's  faithful  New  York  publisher,  had  un 
expectedly  departed  this  world,  and  our  beautiful  "  Cedar- 
croft"  was  in  a  state  of  deterioration  under  the  careless 
management  of  unprincipled  tenants.  As  my  husband 
was  not  only  determined  to  live  in  New  York  henceforth, 
but  was  even  forced  to  do  so  at  present  by  the  necessity 
of  earning  money,  he  gave  the  property  into  the  care  of 
his  family,  and  thenceforward  we  did  not  enter  its  doors 
except  as  guests. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

SUNSET 

IT  was  the  fall  of  the  year  when  we  arrived  in  "  Cedar- 
croft"  on  our  return  from  Europe.  A  pleasant  surprise 
awaited  us.  The  people  had  planned  to  celebrate  the 
homecoming  of  the  poet  of  "Lars,"  and  in  consequence 
an  invitation  was  tendered  to  Bayard  Taylor  and  his 
family  to  attend  a  basket  picnic  at  "Mount  Cuba,"  near 
Hockessin,  Delaware.  When  the  appointed  day  arrived 
a  radiant  sun  shone  in  the  deep  azure  sky,  gilding  the 
brilliant  hues  of  the  autumn  landscape  and  illuminating 
the  country,  which  shimmered  in  a  faint  blue  haze.  An 
hour's  drive  brought  us  to  the  place,  where  a  large 
rectangular  pavilion  had  been  erected  on  the  banks  of 
a  stream  that  brawled  in  its  rocky  bed,  surrounded  by 
wooded  hills.  The  walls  of  the  structure  were  draped 
with  flags  and  garlanded  with  wreaths  of  autumn  leaves, 
between  which  tablets  were  suspended,  bearing  quota 
tions  from  Taylor's  poems,  framed  in  ivy.  A  large  con 
course  of  friends  from  far  and  near  awaited  us.  Many 
of  them  were  old  friends  and  acquaintances  of  Taylor's 
youth — Quakers  or  the  descendants  of  Quakers.  We  were 
warmly  welcomed  and  greeted  with  handshaking,  and 
then  all  turned  their  attention  to  the  long  richly  laden 
tables.  The  latter  were  set  with  the  best  that  the 
fertile  soil  of  Chester  County  and  Delaware,  the  poultry 
yards  and  larders  of  the  efficient  housewives,  could 

254 


SUNSET  255 

furnish.  The  appetising  viands  were  diversified  by 
baskets  of  luscious  grapes  and  great  nosegays  of  beautiful 
autumn  flowers — blue  gentians  and  lobelias  from  the 
meadows,  asters  and  goldenrod  from  the  hillsides, 
mingled  with  the  crimson  leaves  of  the  maple  and  the 
pale  gold  of  the  sassafras,  of  which  the  poet  sings  in 
"Lars."  To  him  was  given  the  seat  of  honour,  with 
his  mother  and  his  wife  on  either  hand.  After  a  while 
the  first  speech  was  made  by  the  chairman  of  the  com 
mittee  of  arrangements,  who  expressed  the  thanks  of 
Hockessin  to  the  author  of  "Lars,"  because  he  had  not 
only  immortalised  the  idyllic  beauty  of  the  valley,  but 
had  also  given  poetic  expression  to  the  spirit  of  Quaker 
thought  and  principle.  Similar  speeches,  interspersed 
with  poems  written  for  the  occasion,  followed,  and  the 
hours  passed  without  our  taking  note  of  them.  When 
the  setting  sun  touched  the  tops  of  the  encircling  woods 
the  poet  arose  and  in  a  voice  vibrating  with  emotion  gave 
expression  to  his  heartfelt  gratitude  for  "a  day  which 
will  stand  in  my  memory  bathed  in  its  own  solemn  and 
sacred  light. ' '  * 

It  was  indeed  an  hour  that  compensated  for  much  that 
he  had  borne  in  the  past.  With  renewed  courage  he 
again  turned  to  the  laborious  work  with  which  he  was 
forced  by  the  exigencies  of  life  to  burden  himself. 

While  my  husband  was  in  the  West,  whither  numerous 
lecturing  calls  had  summoned  him,  I  moved  our  belong 
ings  to  New  York  and  put  our  quarters  in  order,  which 
the  head  of  the  house  did  not  see  till  Christmas.  Before 
his  return  he  wrote: 

*From  Bayard  Taylor's  address  at  Mount  Cuba,  published  in  Dela 
ware  State  Journal,  October  17,  1874. 


256  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

"When  you  get  the  boxes,  etc.,  from  the  storage,  let 
Lilian  put  up  my  Ersch  and  Gruber,  and  the  other  books, 
so  that  I  may  have  a  little  library  on  coming  home.  I'd 
like  to  have  my  colors,  etc.,  in  readiness,  and  perhaps 
you  could  get  me  one  or  two  little  canvases  at  Schaus's. 
I  shall  paint  on  Sundays  this  winter  instead  of  writing." 

In  the  latter  portions  of  the  winter  Taylor  was  also 
more  or  less  en  route.  He  thought  it  advisable  to  make 
hay  while  the  sun  shone,  and,  in  fact,  the  proceeds  from 
his  lectures  were  not  to  be  disdained.  His  letters  from 
the  West,  however,  gave  me  some  insight  into  the  dis 
comforts  and  hardships  that  he  had  to  endure.  "  It  was 
plain  to  me,"  I  wrote  to  my  husband,  "from  your  first 
letter  in  Omaha,  that  these  fatiguing  journeys  use  you 
up.  Even  if  you  say  in  the  next :  '  I  was  not  so  much 
fatigued  after  lecturing  as  on  previous  Saturdays'  (caro 
mio,  you  write  thus  every  Sunday),  the  question  is:  how 
dreadfully  tired  were  you  at  first? " 

At  intervals  he  had  pleasant  experiences  to  relate. 
In  Mankato,  Minn.,  Freiligrath's  son,  Wolfgang,  paid 
him  a  visit.  "  He  is  settled  here  as  a  fur-trader,"  Taylor 
wrote,  "and  seems  to  be  doing  well.  He  is  quite  hand 
some,  remarkably  like  his  father."  In  Illinois  he  was 

the  guest  of  a  German,  Doctor  S ,  and  his  "highly 

well-born  wife — nee  Princessin  von  B .  I  couldn't 

help  thinking  of  Spielhagen's  novels."  Another  time  he 
wrote:  "I  heard  a  funny  newspaper  expression  on  the 
train  this  morning.  Two  men  were  talking  about  a  third, 
and  one  said :  '  He  lives  at  Harper's  down  on  the  bottom, 
doesn't  he?'  The  other  answered:  'He  did  live  there, 
but  he's  married  now,  and  gone  to  himself  to  live!" 

In  April,   1875,  Taylor  wrote  to  me  from  the  West: 


SUNSET  257 

"You'll  be  surprised  to  hear  that  I  occasionally  write  a 
few  lines — of  poetry!  But  I'll  not  tell  you  what  they  are, 
until  I  return."  When  he  arrived  home  he  produced 
a  manuscript,  and  read  the  Shepherd's  monologue  to  me, 
which  forms  the  opening  scene  of  his  last  important 
poetical  work.  But  according  to  his  wont,  he  would  not 
disclose  the  plan  and  scope  of  his  creation.  When  I 
expressed  my  surprise  and  liking  of  the  opening  passage, 
however,  he  went  so  far  as  to  tell  me  the  title  of  the 
drama:  it  was  to  be  called  "  Eos."  Not  long  after  he  dis 
carded  this  name,  and  gave  preference  to  "  Prince  Deuka- 
lion."  When  I  asked  him:  "  Why  Prince?"  he  replied, 
"Because  this  Deukalion  is  a  type  far  superior  to  all 
other  men." 

This,  his  last  drama,  was  later  characterised  by  him 
as  "the  poem  of  my  life."  It  sprang  from  his  inmost 
spiritual  thought,  and  contains  the  sum  of  his  ripest 
views  of  life  and  the  world,  of  his  religious  and  social 
beliefs,  of  his  rich  and  varied  knowledge  and  insight.  If 
much  is  veiled  and  only  comprehensible  to  the  initiated, 
this  is  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  poetry.  Taylor 
expressed  himself  in  regard  to  such  manifestations  in 
one  of  his  notes  to  the  Second  Part  of  "Faust,"  where 
he  says: 

"We  find  traces  of  that  truth  which  reaches  the  poet 
by  a  deeper  intuition,  having  the  involuntary  nature,  yet 
also  the  distinctness,  of  a  dream;  and  which  always  con 
tains  more  than  its  utter er  can  explain.  What  to  the 
common  mind  would  be  guesses  are  to  the  poetic  mind 
prophetic  glimpses,  which  may  not  be  verified  during 
the  poet's  life.  He  cannot  reject  them,  for  they  come 
to  him  with  an  irresistible  authority :  he  must  therefore  be 


258  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

silent  and  suffer  them  to  stand  as  mysteries  for  his  con 
temporaries."  * 

The  idea  of  the  poem  had  long  been  present  in  embryo 
in  his  mind,  but  it  was  not  till  now,  in  his  riper  years, 
that  he  felt  equal  to  the  task  of  calling  it  into  existence. 
Even  his  dearly  beloved  plan  of  the  twin  biography  of 
Goethe  and  Schiller  was  for  the  present  driven  into  the 
background  by  the  promptings  of  the  Muse. 

The  summer  passed  amid  a  number  of  short  trips 
hither  and  thither.  During  a  visit  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
James  T.  Fields  at  their  picturesque  cottage  in  Manchester- 
by-the-Sea,  we  met  the  aged  poet  Whittier,  whose  peculiar 
placidity  always  seemed  to  shed  an  atmosphere  of  peace 
upon  everyone  who  came  in  contact  with  him.  The 
great  dark  eyes  alone,  that  shone  in  the  pale  oval  of  his 
face,  gave  evidence  of  the  poetic  fire  that  burned  in  his 
soul.  Whenever  I  saw  him  he  seemed  to  me  the  ideal 
manly  type  of  a  handsome  Quaker. 

Toward  the  end  of  August,  while  I  was  still  in  the 
country,  Taylor  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Southern 
poet,  Sidney  Lanier,  then  a  rising  star  in  the  constellation 
of  American  poets.  The  two  men  were  mutally  delighted 
with  one  another  at  their  very  first  meeting.  Next  day 
my  husband  wrote:  " Lanier,  the  Georgia  poet,  came, 
and  is  a  very  refined,  agreeable  man.  I  expect  him  every 
minute  to  dine  with  me  on  a  single  chicken."  Lanier 's 
personality  was  such  as  to  attract  attention  anywhere. 
His  noble  features  were  framed  in  thick,  dark  curling 

*  The  sentences  quoted  above  will  be  found  in  a  somewhat  abbrevi 
ated  form  in  Note  45,  to  the  second  volume  of  the  Translation  of 
"Faust."  The  full  text  cited  by  me  is  in  a  manuscript  book,  which  I 
gave  to  Harvard  University  Library,  along  with  a  number  of  others, 
after  the  poet's  death. 


. 


SUNSET  259 

locks;  his  full,  long  beard  concealed  the  pallor  of  his 
cheeks,  and  his  dark  eyes  had  a  look  as  if  he  dwelt  in 
another  world  than  ours.  In  him  two  sister  arts  were 
wedded — music  and  poetry;  and  one  needed  first  to 
recognise  the  musician  in  order  fully  to  appreciate  the 
Doet.  His  young  wife,  whom  we  learned  to  know  a  year 
later,  is  likewise  a  Southerner.  Her  delicate  beauty 
and  large,  dreamy  dark  eyes  made  her  seem  specially 
created  to  be  the  helpmate  of  a  poet.  Lanier  was  then  in 
the  midst  of  his  fight  for  existence,  which  he  heroically 
continued  to  wage  until  his  untimely  death. 

Bayard  Taylor  was  also  engaged  in  a  manful  struggle 
for  the  necessaries  of  life.  Lacking  any  fixed  income 
since  the  failure  of  the  Tribune  to  pay  dividends,  he  was 
obliged  when  autumn  approached  to  look  again  to  a 
lecturing  tour  for  his  principal  source  of  revenue.  At 
the  same  time  the  lyrical  drama  upon  which  he  was 
writing  was  continuously  present  to  his  mind.  At  the 
end  of  the  summer  he  wrote  a  part  of  the  Second  Act, 
encountering  some  difficulties  with  the  second  scene. 
After  rewriting  it  several  times,  he  laid  it  aside,  and  at 
the  turn  of  the  year  the  whole  act  was  revised  and  fairly 
copied  out.  How  it  was  possible  for  him  to  foster  and 
produce  a  poetic  work  requiring  as  much  profound 
reflection  as  "  Prince  Deukalion,"  during  a  period  of  great 
physical  exertions  and  hardships,  such  as  his  lecturing 
tours  forced  upon  him,  is  more  than  I  can  say.  On 
January  26th  he  wrote  to  me  from  Fort  Wayne,  "I  am 
trying  to  write  a  little  on  Scene  i,  Act  III,  to-day";  and 
on  the  3oth,  while  resting  over  Sunday  in  Chicago,  he 
said,  "  I  have  had  little  chance  to  write  anything — 
Scene  i  is  not  finished.  But  I  keep  fresh  and  vigorous, 


26o  ON  TWO  .CONTINENTS 

and  do  a  good  [deal]  of  head-work  on  the  poem,  as  I  go 
along."  After  his  return  home  in  March  he  wrote  the 
second  scene  of  the  Third  Act;  but  after  its  conclusion 
the  poem  remained  at  a  standstill  until  the  autumn  of 
the  following  year.  Not  only  did  external  obstacles 
intervene,  but  he  was  also  hindered  for  the  time  being  by 
a  serious  difficulty  in  the  further  development  of  the  fun 
damental  idea  of  the  poem.  As  far  as  externals  were 
concerned  there  were  two  circumstances  that  directed 
his  thoughts  into  other  channels.  On  March  2yth 
Taylor  again  joined  the  editorial  staff  of  the  Tribune,  after 
more  than  twenty  years  of  absence — a  step  to  which  he 
was  forced  because  during  the  non-payment  of  dividends 
to  the  stockholders  of  the  paper  this  was  the  only  way 
to  secure  himself  a  regular  income.  He  hoped,  at  the 
same  time,  to  find  leisure  at  home  for  the  furtherance  of 
his  own  creative  work.  The  sequel  shows  how  vain  this 
expectation  was.  Shortly  after  this  decisive  step  my 
husband  was  appointed  the  poet  of  the  Centennial 
Celebration  of  American  Independence,  after  the  honour 
had  been  declined  by  the  older  poets.  His  patriotic 
conscience  would  not  permit  him  to  do  likewise,  and  so 
he  "stepped  into  the  breach  at  the  eleventh  hour,"  as 
he  expressed  himself.  The  Ode  was  accomplished  after 
weeks  of  mental  exertion,  in  which  he  strained  every 
nerve  to  the  utmost.  At  the  same  time  he  fulfilled  even 
the  most  trivial  of  his  duties  at  the  Tribune  office.  He 
bent  his  neck  to  a  yoke  that  weighed  upon  him  more 
and  more  heavily  as  time  progressed.  The  arrangement 
at  first  was  that  he  should  undertake  the  literary  part  of 
the  paper,  particularly  the  critical  reviews,  which  were 
germane  to  his  profession.  But  additional  work  was 


SUNSET  261 

soon  put  upon  him.  He  was  sent  as  correspondent  to  the 
opening  ceremonies  of  the  International  Exposition  at 
Philadelphia  on  May  loth,  and  later  was  required  to 
visit  the  fair  in  the  same  capacity,  especially  to  report 
upon  the  art  exhibit.  How  arduous  these  different 
tasks  proved  to  the  man  of  fifty  may  be  seen  from  an 
entry  in  my  diary  on  May  nth:  "B.  T.  did  not  come 
back  till  midnight;  after  returning  from  Philadelphia  he 
went  straight  to  the  Tribune  office  and  finished  his  report 
there.  He  has  had  no  time  to  eat  anything  since  two 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon." 

That  summer,  the  first  in  which  duty  kept  him  in  the 
city,  was,  moreover,  the  hottest  on  record.  His  wife 
and  daughter  went  to  "Cedarcroft,"  but  he  could  only 
snatch  an  occasional  Sunday  there  for  rest.  A  letter  of 
June  1 4th  says,  "All  goes  well  here.  I  wrote  two  edi 
torials  yesterday  ...  I  called  on  Stedman's  last 
night;  they  were  in  grief  about  their  banana-bird,  which 
had  been  eaten  by  a  rat."  On  the  23d  of  the  same  month 
he  wrote:  "I  shall  write  on  Weimar  to-morrow  and 
Sunday,  to  keep  off  longing  for  you  and  'Cedarcroft/" 

About  the  same  time  I  wrote  to  my  mother : 

''We  suffer  a  great  deal  from  the  heat,  and  still  the 
temperature  rises  from  day  to  day.  ...  I  am 
filled  with  anxiety  for  my  poor  husband,  who  swelters 
in  the  hot  city.  His  newspaper  work  did  not  permit 
him  to  come  out  last  Sunday,  but  we  hope  to  see  him 
next  Saturday.  Then  we  are  all  three  going  to  Phila 
delphia  on  Monday  to  be  ready  for  Independence  Day 
Celebration  next  morning." 

The  Fourth  of  July  was  illuminated  by  a  burning  sun. 


262  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

But  in  order  to  describe  the  events  of  that  day  exactly  as 
they  happened  I  must  again  have  recourse  to  the  words 
in  which  I  related  them  to  my  mother : 

"  At  an  early  hour  we  repaired  to  a  parlour  in  the  Conti 
nental  Hotel,  where  the  Governors  of  several  states  were 
assembled,  and  the  members  of  the  committee  received 
us.  Then  we  proceeded  in  couples  to  Independence 
Square.  My  husband  gave  me  his  arm  and  Lilian  had 
the  honour  of  walking  with  the  Governor  of  New  Mexico. 
The  platform  was  erected  just  behind  Independence 
Hall,  and  was  large  enough  to  accommodate  the  invited 
guests  with  seats.  In  front,  overlooking  Independence 
Square,  was  the  speakers'  stand ;  we  were  shown  to  seats 
close  by.  Awnings  were  stretched  in  sections  over  the 
platform,  to  shield  the  thousands  of  guests  from  the 
fiery  rays  of  the  sun,  but  the  countless  multitude  that 
thronged  the  square,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  had  no 
protection  beyond  the  scanty  shade  of  some  old  trees, 
and  sheltered  itself  with  umbrellas  and  sunshades  as  best 
it  might.  And  yet  this  immense  concourse  stood  for 
five  whole  hours  without  losing  patience  or  parting 
with  its  holiday  humour. 

"The  last  guest  to  arrive  upon  the  platform  was  Dom 
Pedro,  Emperor  of  Brazil.  He  came  in  plain  clothing  and 
alone;  after  he  had  taken  his  seat  a  march  announced 
the  beginning  of  the  ceremonies.  Then  the  Mayor  of 
Philadelphia  advanced  to  the  edge  of  the  platform,  and 
held  up  to  the  view  of  the  people  a  document  yellow 
with  age — the  Declaration  of  Independence.  Thousands 
upon  thousands  of  voices  joined  in  wild  cheering,  and 
when  the  hurrahs  at  last  ceased  the  Mayor  handed  the 
parchment  to  Mr.  Lee,  of  Virginia,  the  grandson  of  one 
of  the  signers,  who  read  the  priceless  scroll  aloud.  The 
National  Ode  followed.  The  poet  advanced  to  the  edge 
of  the  platform,  facing  the  vast  audience,  and  declaimed 
by  heart,  without  a  manuscript,  the  rythmical  Pindaric 


SUNSET  263 

strophes  of  his  Ode  in  his  own  sonorous,  far-reaching 
tones.  After  the  first  few  lines  a  hush  settled  down 
upon  the  throng  that  up  to  the  present  moment  had  been 
more  or  less  restless  and  noisy,  and  this  continued — 
broken  only  here  and  there  by  applause — until  the  final 
stanza,  when  the  air  was  rent  with  a  storm  of  shouts  and 
cheers.  You  can  imagine  how  proud  we,  his  wife  and 
daughter,  felt. 

"  The  Ode  was  followed  by  the  oration,  which  William 
M.  Evarts  read  from  his  manuscript,  and  the  celebration 
was  concluded  by  singing  the  hundredth  psalm:  'Make 
a  joyful  noise  unto  the  Lord  all  ye  lands,'  in  which 
the  populace  joined. 

"Taylor  felt  so  exhausted  by  the  excitement  of  the  day 
and  the  cruel  heat  that  we  hastened  to  evade  the  crowd 
by  leaving  immediately  after  the  singing.  We  were 
fortunate  in  being  able  to  follow  in  the  wake  of  General 
Sheridan  and  his  staff,  for  whose  exit  a  lane  was  being 
made.  But  before  we  reached  Independence  Hall, 
through  which  our  path  lay,  we  experienced  some  moments 
which  can  never  be  forgotten.  A  large  number  of  the 
common  people  had  crowded  upon  the  platform,  and 
stood  like  a  wall  on  both  sides  of  the  narrow  passageway 
through  which  we  were  obliged  to  pass.  As  soon  as  they 
caught  sight  of  Taylor  cries  resounded  on  all  sides: 
'That's  Bayard  Taylor!'— 'That's  him!'— 'There  he 
comes,  our  Centennial  Poet!' — 'Hurrah  for  our  Poet!' — 
and  hands  were  stretched  out  from  either  side  eager  to 
grasp  his.  Words  cannot  express  how  our  hearts  were 
moved  by  this  ovation  from  the  people.  It  was  the 
fairest  tribute  that  the  poet  could  desire." 

The  following  morning  duty  called  my  husband  back 
to  New  York,  and  I  accompanied  him  for  a  visit  of  a 
week.  There  a  number  of  tasks  awaited  him,  which  he 
accomplished  only  with  the  most  strenuous  exertion 
in  an  atmosphere  of  100°.  One  evening,  when  he  was 


264  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

entitled  to  a  period  of  rest  after  an  exhausting  day's 
work  in  the  office,  he  was  recalled  on  account  of  an 
important  contribution,  and  did  not  return  till  after 
midnight.  Unremitting,  inexorable  work  was  his  portion. 
In  the  latter  part  of  July  he  wrote  to  me:  ''Yesterday  I 
wrote  an  article  on  Stanley  and  translated  two  columns 
of  Schurz's  letter."  Then  he  mentioned  his  editorials  on 
the  Orient  and  Mexico ;  and  a  review  of  Lord  Houghton's 
Poems,  that  he  had  written,  and  on  August  gth  he  in 
quired:  "Have  you  read  my  two  editorials  on  'Author 
ship,'  and  'Brain-work?"  These  were  all  articles  that 
merited  a  better  fate  than  to  be  consigned  to  oblivion 
as  ephemeral  newspaper  hackwork,  for  he  expended  his 
best  mental  powers  upon  everything  that  he  wrote. 

Four  weeks  later  we  were  together  again  in  New  York, 
but  soon  after  parted  with  our  daughter,  who  went  to 
Vassar  College  to  finish  her  education.  Meanwhile  our 
circle  had  become  more  extended  than  ever  and  our 
social  intercourse  was  stimulating  alike  to  mind  and 
heart.  Friends  frequently  came  to  see  us  of  an  evening, 
and  talked  for  an  hour  or  so.  Receptions  did  not  entail 
large  expenditure  of  money,  and  people  still  enjoyed  the 
divine  gift  of  true  friendship,  the  cultivation  of  which  is 
rendered  impossible  nowadays  by  the  vast  extent  of  the 
city's  limits.  Our  Sunday  evenings  were  gatherings 
which  many  people  gladly  attended,  so  that  our  modest, 
but  cosy,  little  home  was  hardly  able  to  hold  them  all. 
At  our  frequent  small  dinners  the  courses  were  few,  but 
the  spirits  of  the  participants  ran  high.  Friends  often 
dropped  in  uninvited  to  luncheon,  where  an  extra  place 
was  always  ready.  This  informal  friendly  intercourse 
was  the  preserving  element  for  Taylor  in  that  period  of 


SUNSET  265 

arduous  work  and  bitter  disappointment.  His  natural 
inclination  was  social,  and  he  was  able  to  throw  off 
his  yoke  in  his  hours  of  leisure  and  to  give  himself  up 
completely  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  hour.  He  was  then  a 
cheerful,  entertaining  companion,  who  had  the  gift  of 
diffusing  life  and  spirits  throughout  the  company,  and  of 
awakening  mirth  and  laughter  by  his  inextinguishable 
humour  and  the  witty  observations  that  never  lapsed  into 
biting  sarcasm.  He  sometimes  indulged  in  punning. 
One  evening  he  returned  late  from  a  gentlemen's  dinner, 
and  told  me  of  a  joke  that  he  had  perpetrated.  One  of 
the  guests  had  bored  him  by  talking  continually  of  sun 
myths.  After  a  while  Taylor  grew  tired  of  this,  and  said: 
"Have  you  ever  thought  of  the  reason  why  the  name 
Smith  occurs  so  frequently?"  When  no  one  had  an 
answer  ready  he  continued,  "Smith  is  evidently  a 
contracted  form  of  '  sun  myth ' ;  thus :  Sun  myth — Sumyth 
— Smith."  The  whole  company  burst  out  laughing,  and 
the  subject  of  sun  myth  was  no  longer  broached.  Con 
cerning  an  attack  of  indigestion  he  one  day  remarked  to 
a  friend  that  he  had  been  obliged  to  resort  to  "Pere  A. 
Gorick,  the  curate  of  St.  Omac"  for  relief.  Whether  the 
expression  "cherub's  toes"  for  pink  radishes  was  his  own 
or  not  I  do  not  know,  but  I  am  inclined  to  believe  it  was 
original. 

Among  the  memoranda  from  Taylor's  own  pen  is  an 
entry,  descriptive  of  a  dinner  at  which  we  were  present 
about  this  time.  I  quote  it  almost  entire. 


"January  ist,  1877. 

"On   Monday  last,    Dec.    25th,    1876,   my  review  of 
Tapper's    Drama  (?)  of  'Washington'  appeared   in  The 


266  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

Tribune.  Coming  home  from  the  office  on  Tuesday 
evening,  I  was  quite  surprised  to  find  an  invitation  for  us 
from  Bryant  to  dine  with  him  next  day,  'to  meet  Mr. 
Martin  F.  Tupper.'  Marie  had  already  accepted,  as  the 
messenger  waited  for  an  answer:  moreover,  never  before 
in  my  life  had  Bryant  invited  me  to  his  house,  and  I  was 
a  little  curious  to  meet  him  once  as  host. 

"  On  arriving,  we  found  Bryant,  his  daughter  Julia,  and 
the  dapper  Tupper  in  the  parlor.  The  last  had  changed 
considerably  since  I  saw  him  here  in  1851 ;  but  he  looked 
better,  for  age  had  given  him  something  which  is  not 
dignity,  but  might  pass  for  it.  I  noticed  that  his  right 
hand  is  shrunken,  either  from  gout  or  natural  deformity; 
that  his  legs  are  spindly  and  his  patent-leather  feet  small. 
He  was  a  little  effusive  on  being  introduced,  and  I  could 
not  make  much  of  a  reply,  for  I  really  did  not  know  what 
to  say.  Almost  immediately  entered  Dr.  Holland  and 
wife,  and  I  soon  saw  that  we  were  the  whole  dinner 
party.  Dr.  H.  with  all  his  sincere  amiability  is  a  little 
unready — or  unflexible — on  such  occasions:  he  has  not 
learned  how  to  unbend  and  take  society  sportively.  I 
began  to  suspect  that  Bryant  had  invited  me  with  a 
purpose ;  and  I  at  once  decided  to  fulfil  the  purpose. 

"  The  dinner  was  good  and  abundant,  with  all  the  con 
ventional  wines.  The  Hollands,  of  course  did  not  drink, 
but  everybody  else  made  free.  It  was  not  long  before 
Tupper  betrayed  his — nature.  I  think  the  first  evidence 
was  his  complacent  assertion  that  most  of  the  American 
names  we  suppose  to  be  Indian  are  really  corrupted 
European  names.  'Give  an  instance!'  I  said.  He  was 
a  little  disconcerted,  but  presently  answered:  'Mobile. 
That  is  certainly  French.'  'It  sounds  so,'  I  said;  'but 
perhaps  you  don't  know  how  it  came  that  the  settle 
ment  was  founded,  not  long  ago,  by  Northern  men,  who 
quarrelled  about  the  appointment  of  the  land.  A  fight 
was  imminent,  when  somebody  opened  a  barrel  of  petro 
leum  which  he  found  among  the  stores,  threw  it  over 


SUNSET  267 

them,  and  thus  restored  peace.  Therefore  they  decided 
to  call  the  place  Mob-ile?  I  looked  furtively  at  Bryant, 
whose  upper  face  was  stolid;  but  his  gray  mustache 
will  conceal  a  large  smile,  and  I  noticed  a  slight  quivering 
about  the  edges  of  his  beard,  which  induced  me  to  go 
on.  Tupper  was  evidently  mystified.  Presently,  some 
thing  led  him  to  talk  about  Greek  sculpture,  '  It's  a  great 
mistake, '  he  said,  '  to  suppose  that  the  Greeks  knew  any 
thing  of  the  human  form.  Their  proportions  were  all 
wrong.'  'Give  an  instance!'  I  exclaimed.  He  stam 
mered:  'Ah — well — there's  the  Milo  of  Venus — the  head 
is  a  great  deal  too  small.'  I  looked  at  Marie,  who  sat 
opposite,  between  him  and  Holland,  and  came  near 
bursting  into  a  shriek. 

"  After  dinner  he  turned  the  conversation  upon  dreams, 
and  said  that  his  chapter  on  Ambition  in  'Proverbial 
Philosophy'  was  a  dream.  He  proposed  reading  it — 
which  of  course  could  not  be  avoided,  but  was  a  positive 
infliction.  His  reading  was  that  of  a  school-boy,  monot 
onous  and  wearisome  in  the  highest  degree.  As  soon 
afterward  as  possible,  I  asked  Bryant:  'Have  you  ever 
read  the  fragment  of  an  epic  poem  on  Sennacherib, 
written  by  Cabot,  of  Boston?'  'Never.'  'There  are 
only  four  lines, '  I  said ;  '  he  couldn't  get  any  further.  I 
tried  to  continue  it,  but  only  added  two  more.'  'Let 
us  have  them,  by  all  means!'  said  Bryant.  Then  I 
recited  Cabot's  four  lines: 

'There  was  a  king,  Sennacherib, 
Who  said  that  he  could  crack  a  rib 
With  any  but  Jehosaphat — 
He  couldn't  his,  he  was  too  fat!' 

1  Now  what  were  the  two  you  added? '  said  Bryant. 

'Then  came  an  angry  Moabite, 
Who  gave  his  little  toe  a  bite,' 


268  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

said  I.  Tapper's  face  was  a  study.  I  cannot  guess 
what  he  thought,  and  did  not  try  to  discover.  In  the 
course  of  the  dinner  he  told  a  story  as  having  been  given 
to  him  by  Tennyson,  of  'a  damned  Yankee'  (he  pro 
fessed  to  quote  Tennyson's  words)  having  climbed  into 
a  tree  at  Farringford,  to  overhear  Tennyson's  talk  with 
his  wife,  on  the  garden-seat  below.  Now,  it  chanced  that 
Tennyson  had  told  the  same  story  to  me,  at  Farringford, 
in  February,  1867,  soon  after  the  thing  happened.  I 
said  to  him : '  I  hope  the  man  was  not  an  American.'  '  No/ 
he  answered,  *  I  am  sorry  to  say  it  was  an  Englishman.* 
So  I  felt  justified  in  relating  my  side  of  the  story. 

"  Such  specimens  of  men,  I  think,  are  impossible  in 
this  country.  At  least  I  have  never  seen  them." 

When  I  recall  to  mind  all  those  dear  people  to  whom 
we  were  closely  united  by  the  bonds  of  a  friendship  of 
many  years,  or  of  few,  I  am  filled  with  deep  sorrow.  The 
intimates  who  then  belonged  to  the  living  present,  and 
helped  to  render  the  golden  hours  more  beautiful,  have 
joined  the  silent  majority.  And  he — the  centre  of  the 
noble  circle  of  friends — gone,  too,  all  of  them  scattered 
and  strewn  like  dead  leaves  when  the  cold  breath  of  the 
autumn  wind  has  passed.  But — 

"Warte  nur,  balde 
Ruhest  Du  auch." 

Was  the  Preacher  right  when  he  taught  the  vanity  of  all 
earthly  things?  Sometimes,  in  periods  of  depression, 
it  almost  seems  to  me  as  if  he  was. 

Looking  through  my  daily  memoranda  during  the  last 
years  of  my  husband's  life,  I  am  painfully  impressed 
with  the  conviction  of  a  truth  that  may  be  read  between 
the  lines — how  his  great  capacity  for  work,  his  healthy 


SUNSET  269 

exuberant  life  was  gradually  undermined  by  exorbitant 
demands  from  without  and  by  the  constant  goading  of 
his  own  creative  impulse  from  within.  One  of  these 
notes  in  my  diary,  dated  February  28,  1877,  reads  thus: 
"Now  Bayard  has  been  made  art  critic  in  addition  to 
everything  else.  The  result  is,  that  when  we  came  home 
last  night  from  Ole  Bull's  concert,  he  found  an  order  to 
attend  the  private  view  of  the  exhibition  at  the  Academy 
of  Art,  and  write  a  notice  to  appear  in  the  morning's 
Tribune"  In  the  middle  of  March  he  performed  a 
wonderful  feat  in  the  way  of  rapid  work,  when  writing 
a  review  of  Victor  Hugo's  "La  Legende  des  Siecles"  for 
the  Tribune.  The  time  allowed  him  was  short,  and  the 
perusal  of  the  two  thick  volumes  alone  was  no  small 
matter.  In  spite  of  this  he  undertook  the  task  at  once, 
and  after  mastering  the  contents,  wrote  a  long  critical 
review,*  including  the  translation  of  six  lyrical  poems, 
in  the  incredibly  short  time  of  a  few  afternoon  and  even 
ing  hours. 

In  spite  of  all  this  the  Muse  visited  him  at  intervals 
in  a  favourable  hour,  and  her  pinions  bore  his  overbur 
dened  brain  aloft  into  the  realms  of  poetry.  Among  the 
poems  which  were  thus  conceived  were  "Youth,"  "Peach 
Blossoms,"  and  "Assyrian  Night" — lyrics  that  are  num 
bered  among  the  most  beautiful  products  of  his  pen.  But 
these  moments  of  poetic  inspiration  were  rare. 

When  the  spring  of  1877  approached  it  became  evident 
that  a  period  of  rest  was  absolutely  necessary  to  my 
husband.  But  he  was  not  able  to  leave  New  York  before 
July,  when  he  sought  refreshment  and  renewed  vigour 

*  Published  after  the  author's  death  in  a  volume  entitled  "Critical 
Essays  and  Literary  Notes." 


270  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

among  the  Sulphur  Springs  of  West  Virginia.  There 
he  seemed  to  recuperate  in  the  delightful  mountain  air 
and  complete  repose  of  the  baths.  One  circumstance 
alone  gave  him  uneasiness  during  this  vacation.  Rumours 
that  President  Hayes  had  selected  him  for  a  ministerial 
post  began  to  be  circulated.  Russia  was  first  mentioned, 
and  then  Belgium.  Neither  of  these  places  possessed 
attraction  for  him;  he  declared  that  he  would  accept  no 
other  post  than  Berlin;  there  he  might  find  leisure  to 
write  the  twin  Biography,  which  had  hitherto  been  forced 
to  stand  back  so  many  years.  But  as  he  declined  to 
ask  for  the  appointment,  the  matter  rested  for  the  time 
being. 

Not  only  the  Biography — his  lyrical  drama  also  had 
been  forced  into  the  background.  "Like  the  peri  for 
paradise,"*  he  longed  once  more  to  take  up  the  thread 
of  the  poem,  a  wish  which  was  soon  to  be  fulfilled.  At 
the  end  of  August,  after  two  months'  rest,  as  he  was  sail 
ing  past  Minot's  Ledge  in  a  small  boat,  on  the  way  to 
Cohasset,  Mass.,  in  the  company  of  his  friend  James  R. 
Osgood,  the  "Vision  of  Deukalion"  was  suddenly  revealed 
to  his  inner  eye  in  the  flash  of  an  inspiration.  Thus  was 
solved  the  problem  which  had  hitherto  hindered  him  in 
the  poetic  development  of  the  drama. 

Immediately  after  his  return  home  to  his  library,  he 
employed  every  leisure  moment  to  finish  the  Third  Act, 
that  had  given  him  so  much  trouble.  The  Fourth  and 
last  Act,  which  had  long  stood  clear  and  distinct  before 
his  mind,  followed  rapidly,  and  on  October  ;th  he  wrote 
the  final  stanza  of  the  poem.  In  an  exhilarated  mood 
he  read  to  me  the  melodious  songs  of  the  shepherd 

*Bayard  Taylor's  own  words. 


SUNSET  271 

and  shepherdess,  which  occur  near  the  end,  while  I  stood 
behind  his  chair  and  looked  over  his  shoulder  at  the  manu 
script.  During  the  reading,  while  I  was  intently  listen 
ing  to  his  voice,  something  suddenly  whispered  within 
me:  "Swan-song! — his  swan-song !"-  —Whence  this  pre 
monition?  I  know  not,  for  although  I  was  often  anxious 
of  late  about  my  husband's  health,  the  thought  that  I 
might  lose  him  had  never  seriously  entered  my  mind. 
Once  only  during  that  autumn  I  was  seized  with  a 
deeper  feeling  of  anxiety.  He  sat  at  his  desk,  at  work 
on  some  article  for  the  Tribune,  when  he  stopped  sud 
denly,  and  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  desperation:  "If  I 
don't  succeed  in  writing  the  Biography  soon,  I  shall 
never  do  it!  It  is  impossible  to  carry  around  such  a 
mass  of  material  in  my  head  much  longer :  it  must  escape 
me ! "  This  was  the  only  time  when  he  expressed  a  doubt 
of  his  memory.  In  addition,  a  sort  of  preoccupation 
had  grown  upon  him  of  late.  At  times  he  seemed 
utterly  absent-minded,  did  not  hear  what  I  said  to  him, 
and  yet  gave  answer  mechanically.  I  used  to  joke 
about  this  habit,  and  warned  him  not  to  let  it  grow,  citing 
the  example  of  the  learned  Neander,*  who  came  home  one 
day  and  complained  to  his  sister  that  he  had  suddenly 
grown  lame,  having  limped  all  the  way.  The  explanation 
was  furnished  by  an  acquaintance,  who  had  seen  him 
walking  with  one  foot  on  the  curbstone  and  the  other 
in  the  gutter.  Taylor's  work,  however,  did  not  suffer  from 
his  absence  of  mind.  Concentration  of  thought  had 
always  been  one  of  his  eminent  characteristics,  of  which 
he  reaped  the  benefits  at  the  present  time,  when  he 
undertook,  in  addition  to  the  many  and  varied  tasks 

*A  German  theologian  of  note. 


272  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

with  which  he  was  burdened,  to  translate  Schiller's 
"Don  Carlos"  and  adapt  it  to  the  American  stage.  The 
suggestion  came  from  Lawrence  Barrett,  who  believed 
himself  peculiarly  fitted  to  impersonate  the  hero,  and 
succeeded  in  persuading  Taylor  to  furnish  the  English 
version  of  the  tragedy.  Thus  the  few  leisure  hours  that 
were  at  his  disposal  must  be  devoted  to  the  accomplish 
ment  of  this  great  task.  The  poetic  character  and  the 
sublimity  of  the  subject,  however,  excited  his  interest 
to  such  a  degree  that  he  scarcely  noticed  the  strain 
upon  his  intellectual  faculties.  It  was  an  easy  task,  more 
over,  for  the  translator  of  "Faust"  to  render  Schiller's 
smooth  iambic  verse  into  his  native  tongue — he  even 
enjoyed  doing  so.  Only  the  circumstance  that  he  was 
required  to  shorten  the  idealistic  work  of  the  German 
poet  and  to  adapt  it  to  the  stage  representation  in  such 
a  fashion  as  the  actor  wished,  was  an  irksome  condition 
which  caused  him  considerable  difficulty.  Many  were 
the  deliberations  we  held  with  German  friends  upon  the 
knotty  points  before  Taylor  was  able  to  steer  safely  to 
port,  avoiding  both  Scylla  and  Charybdis. 

New  Year's  Day  came  around  once  more,  and  in  the 
evening — it  was  the  last  time — we  spent  a  few  pleasant 
hours  with  Rhine  wine  and  German  lebkuchen  in  the 
company  of  the  intimate  friends  who  came  to  wish  us 
"a  happy  New  Year." 

One  evening,  a  few  weeks  later,  when  a  small  poem 
saw  the  light  at  my  instigation,  stands  most  vividly  in 
my  memory.  We  were  members  of  a  semi-literary  club, 
the  "Fraternity,"  for  whose  February  meeting  another 
member  and  I  had  been  elected  co-editors  of  the  monthly 
manuscript  magazine.  The  contributions  were  all  to  be 


SUNSET  273 

original,  and  furnished  or  collected  by  the  editors;  so  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  beg  a  poem  from  my  husband  as  a 
special  favour.  I  was  well  aware  that  I  was  asking  a 
great  deal  of  him,  who  came  home  from  the  Tribune 
office  late  and  weary.  Nevertheless,  as  we  sat  before  the 
open  fire  after  dinner  and  the  smoke  wreaths  ascended 
from  his  cigar,  I  ventured  to  proffer  my  request:  "Only 
a  little  thing!  You  shake  them  so  easily  out  of  your 
sleeve!"  A  sigh  was  the  answer.  But  later,  when  he 
sat  down  to  his  desk,  he  soon  reappeared  with  a  sheet  of 
paper  in  his  hand,  saying,  "There,  take  what  I  have 
written!"  It  was  that  little  poem,  bubbling  over  with  a 
sportive  fancy,  "The  Imp  of  Springtime,"  which  may  be 
found  in  his  collected  poems. 

Thus  the  first  weeks  of  the  year  1878  passed  amid  alter 
nate  pleasures,  pastimes,  and  severe  drudgery,  to  which 
was  superadded  the  uneasiness  caused  by  the  continued 
rumours  of  a  ministerial  appointment  for  Taylor.  Late  in 
January  there  was  even  a  definite  report  that  the  Presi 
dent  intended  to  send  him  to  Berlin,  but  still  the  slightest 
intimation  addressed  to  himself  was  lacking.  The  result 
ing  uncertainty  as  to  the  near  future  exerted  a  disturbing 
influence  upon  my  husband's  spirits ,  until  the  suspense 
was  at  last  ended,  late  at  night  on  February  i5th,  by  a 
message  from  the  Tribune  office.  A  telegram  from 
Washington  had  just  brought  the  news  that  the  President 
had  sent  Taylor's  name  to  the  Senate  as  his  choice  for 
Minister  to  the  German  Empire. 

Thus  the  die  was  finally  cast.  And  although  the 
heavy  burden  of  journalistic  slavery  dropped  from  his 
shoulders,  other  demands  were  made  upon  my  husband's 
strength,  which  were  by  no  means  salutary.  As  soon  as 


274  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

his  nomination  and  its  ratification  by  the  Senate  appeared 
in  the  papers,  we  were  overwhelmed  with  congratulations, 
and  innumerable  invitations  to  private  receptions  and 
dinners  in  honour  of  the  new  Minister  began  to  pour  in 
upon  us.  Each  additional  banquet,  each  successive 
festivity,  gave  me  cause  for  more  and  more  anxiety  for 
my  husband,  already  taxed  so  far  beyond  his  strength — 
and  when  a  kind-hearted  friend  exclaimed  to  me :  "  What 
happy  people  you  are!"  I  was  rilled  with  a  secret  shud 
dering  fear :  her  words  rang  in  my  ears  like  a  sinister  fore 
boding  ! 

One  of  the  last  days  before  we  sailed  was  devoted  to 
taking  leave  of  Taylor's  aged  parents,  who,  proud  of  their 
son's  distinction,  heroically  subdued  their  sorrow  over 
his  departure.  We  all  concealed  our  sadness  under  a 
cheerful  mask  and  gave  voice  to  happy  auguries  for  the 
future.  When  the  hour  struck  for  saying  farewell  the 
aged  mother  raised  her  glass  and  drank  to  our  safe  voyage, 
with  the  German  words: 

"  Wir  sitzen  so  frohlich  beisammen, 

Wir  haben  uns  alle  so  lieb, 
Wir  heitern  einander  das  Leben, 

Ach  wenn  es  doch  immer  so  blieb!"* 

Thus  we  parted — how  different  was  our  return! 

When  we  had  at  last  boarded  the  steamer  that  was  to 
transport  us  to  Europe,  and  my  weary  husband  thought 
that  a  period  of  rest  would  be  vouchsafed  to  him,  he  found 

*"  We're  sitting  together  so  happy, 
We  love  one  another  so  true, 
We  gladden  each  other's  existence, 
Ah,  would  that  we  always  so  do." 

L.  B.  T.  K. 


SUNSET  275 

it  impossible  to  sleep.  Feverish  fantasies  haunted  him, 
dreams  in  which  he  was  obliged  to  make  speeches  and 
deliver  addresses,  until  the  ship's  doctor  finally  resorted 
to  narcotics  in  order  to  quiet  his  overwrought  brain. 
But  the  traces  of  what  he  had  been  obliged  to  undergo 
during  the  last  few  weeks  did  not  vanish.  They  showed 
so  plainly  in  his  face  that  old  acquaintances  who  met  him 
in  London  and  Paris  were  shocked  at  his  appearance.  It 
was  not  till  after  his  arrival  in  Berlin  that  a  certain 
degree  of  restfulness  took  possession  of  him.  He  found 
the  conditions  and  surroundings  which  awaited  him  to 
his  liking,  and  his  health  improved  in  consequence. 

During  the  summer,  one  after  another,  followed  those 
events  which  raised  the  mind  of  the  whole  German 
nation  to  a  high  pitch  of  excitement  and  suspense. 
People  had  hardly  begun  to  recover  from  the  shock  of 
the  first  unsuccessful  attempt  on  the  Emperor's  life, 
when  the  dreadful  news  overwhelmed  them:  "Another 
attempt  to  assassinate  the  Emperor  has  been  made — he 
is  wounded — perhaps  fatally!"  Thus  the  representative 
of  the  United  States  was  plunged  from  the  very  first  into 
the  midst  of  the  public  excitement  of  a  very  significant 
period  of  German  history,  a  time,  moreover,  during 
which  another  event  of  European  importance  occurred. 
On  July  1 3th  the  International  Congress  met  in  Berlin, 
to  establish  peace  between  Russia  and  Turkey,  according 
to  the  terms  agreed  upon  at  San  Stefano,  and  thus  to 
satisfy  not  only  England,  but  also  the  demands  of  Austria. 
Bismarck,  as  the  "honest  broker,"*  was  the  presiding 
member  of  the  Congress,  which  met  in  the  Imperial 
Chancellor's  palace  in  the  Wilhelm  Strasse. 

*His  own  designation  in  a  speech  before  the  Reichstag. 


276  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

A  few  days  before  the  opening  session  Bayard  Taylor 
succeeded  in  being  admitted  to  an  audience  with  the  Prince, 
a  favour  accorded  to  but  few  of  the  Envoys  Extraordinary. 
Bismarck,  who  received  Taylor  without  any  ceremony, 
led  the  way  at  once  into  the  park-like  garden  behind  the 
palace,  and  there  the  two  men  walked  up  and  down  for 
over  an  hour,  talking  together,  while  the  "dog  of  the 
Empire,"  an  immense  great  Dane,  called  Tyras,  fol 
lowed  his  master's  footsteps.  Taylor  returned  home 
charmed  with  Bismarck's  personality,  and  related  to  us 
that  the  great  statesman  was  evidently  glad  to  eschew 
politics,  and  had  talked  exclusively  of  the  cultivating 
of  flowers,  of  laying  out  gardens,  of  the  peculiarities  of 
animals,  and  kindred  topics. 

As  we  arrived  in  Berlin  in  May,  and  could  not  move 
into  permanent  quarters  until  the  autumn,  we  lived 
meanwhile  in  an  apartment  that  Mr.  Sidney  Everett, 
First  Secretary  of  our  Legation,  put  at  our  disposal 
during  the  temporary  absence  of  his  family.  As  a  sum 
mer  abode,  however,  we  preferred  the  little  town  of 
Friedrichroda,  in  my  native  Thuringian  Forest,  whither 
I  repaired  with  my  daughter  about  the  middle  of  June, 
while  my  husband  for  the  time  being  remained  in  Berlin. 
As  he  came  in  contact  with  the  more  distinguished  mem 
bers  of  the  Congress — although  as  a  spectator  merely — the 
letters  that  I  received  from  him  contained  many  interest 
ing  items  which  he  related  with  his  customary  humour. 
On  the  opening  day,  and  on  succeeding  days,  he  wrote: 

''AMERICAN  LEGATION,  BERLIN,  June  13,  1878. 
"  It  has  been  a  busy  day  for  me,  after  all.     I  telegraphed 
at  the  Potsdamer  Thor,  then  left  the  carriage  and  walked 
for  more  than  two  miles  hither  and  yon,  before  reaching 


SUNSET  277 

home.  I  found  cards  from  Becky  and  Sally  (Beacons- 
field  and  Salisbury!)  and  soon  after  came  those  of  Count 
Corti  and  the  whole  special  Embassy.  Letters  from 
the  Consul  at  Manheim,  from  an  oppressed  naturalized 
citizen,  and  from  the  Foreign  Ministry — all  relating  to 
nearly  the  same  affair — came  in  a  bunch.  The  result 
is  that  I  am  compelled  to  write  a  strong  note  to  the 
German  Government  and  a  strong  dispatch  to  Washing 
ton.  It  requires  thought  and  care,  and  the  general 
effect  is  (as  Mark  Twain  says  of  climbing  to  the  Konig- 
stuhl)  "invigorating  but  devilish."  When  I  came  back 
to  the  empty  rooms  this  morning,  I  felt  rather  wretched ; 
so  now  I  am  inclined  to  look  upon  this  diplomatic  bother 
as  rather  a  god-send,  since  it  will  possess  much  of  my 
thought  until  the  two  important  papers  are  written. 

"I  left  return  cards  on  Becky  and  Sally,  made  quite 
a  lot  of  calls.  ...  I  met  the  Crown  Prince  and 
Princess  on  the  way:  he  recognized  me,  and  made  a  very 
cordial  greeting.  Baron  and  Baroness  von  der  Heydt 
called  to-day,  for  special  reasons.  They  invited  me  to 
dine  with  them  any  day.  .  .  .  The  Baroness  says 
she  will  be  glad  to  assist  you  in  your  housekeeping 
troubles.  I  got  another  butcher's  address  from  them. 
(Am  I  not  practical?)  My  two  lonely  meals  have  been 
very  nice,  and  it  is  hardly  complimentary  to  you  to  say 
that  I  have  had  an  excellent  appetite.  .  .  .  The 
Bunsens  have  invited  me  to  dinner  on  Saturday,  and  I 
have  accepted.  To-day  I  drove  past  Bismarck's  Palace, 
and  it  was  a  sight  to  notice  the  crowds,  held  back  by 
policemen,  who  waited  to  see  the  high  personages  come 
out.  ...  I  shall  finish  the  list  of  necessary  calls  by 
Saturday,  besides  all  the  returns  of  cards." 

"AMERICAN  LEGATION,  BERLIN, 

Friday  evening,  June  14,  1878. 
"  I  have  been  hard  at  work  all  day,  new  cases*  coming 

*These  were  complaints  by  naturalised  German-American  citizens. 


278  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

in.  ...  Cards  from  Corti,  Andrassy  and  many 
others,  which  I  have  returned — besides  called  on  Prince 
GortchakofI,  who  was  just  summoned  to  dinner  but  sent 
down  word  that  he  would  be  very  glad  to  see  me.  .  .  . 
The  sudden  influx  of  business  is  really  a  good  thing,  for 
it  keeps  my  mind  busy,  and  I  therefore  feel  my  loneliness 
less.  I  am  learning  rapidly  to  use  my  eyes  in  driving 
out,  and  to  recognize  people  quickly,  since  I  haven't  you 
to  help  me." 

"  AMERICAN  LEGATION,  BERLIN, 
"Sunday,  June  16,  1878. 

"  I  burst  into  a  laugh  over  your  misgiving  with  regard 
to  the  dinner  at  Bunsen's.  If  you  go  on,  you  will  finally 
be  as  bad  as  Neander's  sister,  and  will  telegraph  to  me 
every  morning  to  put  on  my  trousers  before  going  into 
the  streets!  As  if  I  could  forget  it!  No:  and  I  shall 
long  remember  it.  I  like  Bunsen  more  and  more ;  I  was 
first  there,  met  his  wife  and  both  daughters,  and  then 
came — Helmholz!  While  I  was  telling  him  that  I 
counted  on  his  aid  for  material  for  my  Biography  of 
Goethe,  the  door  opened,  and  Lepsius  appeared.  Hardly 
had  I  greeted  him,  when  there  was  a  new  arrival — Minis 
ter  Waddington,  of  the  Republic  of  France,  and  one  of 
the  most  simple,  genial  and  agreeable  of  men.  Then 
Herr  v.  Norman,  Adjutant  (or  something  else)  of  the 
Crown  Princess,  whom  I  recognized,  at  once,  having 
met  him  years  ago  at  HoltzendorfFs  in  Gotha;  next 
Curtius,  and  finally — Mommsen ! 

"We  had  a  beautiful,  delightful  dinner.  I  sat  between 
Frau  and  Fraulein  v.  Bunsen,  with  Curtius  next  on  my 
right,  and  Lepsius  and  Helmholz  opposite.  I  think 
I  knitted  the  ends  of  friendly  intercourse  around  all  three. 
Curtius  promised  to  send  me  photographs  of  the  Olympia 
statues ;  and  when  I  said  that  you  would  also  be  delighted 
to  see  them,  he  asked  whether  you  had  a  special  interest 
for  classic  art.  So  I  spoke  of  your  residence  in  Rome 
with  your  uncle,  and  when  I  mentioned  his  name  there 


SUNSET  279 

was  a  general  outburst  of  enthusiasm.  All  three  had 
known  him  personally,  loved  him,  and  were  full  of 
pietdt  for  his  character  and  knowledge.  ...  I  had 
afterwards,  a  long  talk  with  Waddington,  and  a  short 
one  with  Mommsen.  The  evening  was  perfectly  inspiring 
to  me.  .  .  .  To-morrow  evening  I  am  invited  to 
meet  the  Congress  at  Lord  Odo's,  and  Wednesday  evening 
at  Count  Carolyi's.  Cards  come  in  by  the  dozen,  and  I 
scatter  mine  punctually  in  return." 

"AMERICAN  LEGATION,  BERLIN, 
"Monday,  June  17,  1878. 

"Lady  Odo  must  have  quite  forgotten  your  p.  p.  c. 
She  called  to-day  in  person,  while  I  was  out,  with  the 
Marquis  of  Salisbury,  and  not  finding  you,  wrote  on  her 
card  that  she  expected  us  and  'Miss  Bayard  Taylor'  at 
the  grand  reception  this  evening.  I'll  explain  it  to  her. 
I  take  Everett  and  Coleman  with  me,  so  that  the  whole 
Legation  will  be  represented  at  once  to  the  High  and 
Mighty  Embassies. 

"Graf  Nesselrode  (Oberhofmarshall)  has  written  me  a 
very  pleasant  note  saying  that  the  Grafin  Perponcher  is 
absent,  that  the  Empress  is  'sehr  geruhrt'  by  my  letter 
to  the  latter,  and  will  receive  me  as  soon  as  the  Emperor's 
condition  will  allow  her  to  do  so.  .  .  .  I  am  only 
owing  four  calls  this  evening.  I  use  my  slate  constantly, 
and  keep  things  spinning.  The  bag  is  off,  all  the  dis 
patches  sent,  and  only  some  fag-ends  of  business  left. 
.  .  .  A  correspondent  of  the  Belletristische,  who 

brought  a  card  from  B ,  writes  to  ask  me  to  pay  his 

passage  back  to  N.  Y. !  And  W ,  of  W-  -'s  Theatre, 

wants  to  be  thought  an  American  citizen,  to  escape 
military  duty,  and  gives  us  no  end  of  trouble.  Wer 
nie  sein  Brod  mit  Thrdnen  ass  * — der  ist  nie  Amerik. 

Gesandter  gewesen  !  And  the  B cooly  informs  me 

that  she  will,  next  fall,  renew  her  request  to  be  presented. 

*  Quotation  from  "Wittielm  Meister." 


28o  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

.  .  .  I  have  also  an  appeal  from  the  Jews  in  N.  Y. 
to  try  and  move  Congress  to  give  them  religious  liberty 
in  Bulgaria!  I  think  that  is  all  that  has  happened  since 
yesterday;  but  isn't  it  enough?  I  forgot — Schlozer* 
called  this  morning  to  say  that  the  Hotel  du  Nord  (where 
he  stays)  will  do  its  best  to  make  Grant  and  party  com 
fortable.  The  landlord  has  heard  that  G.  is  to  be  here 
on  the  2oth,  and  that  I  had  been  trying  to  get  him  into 
the  Kaiserhof .  But  this  afternoon  comes  a  Paris  Register, 
which  says  that  G.  left  on  the  i4th,  for  Brussels,  (I  con 
gratulate  Goodloe!)  and  will  go  to  Copenhagen  via 
Amsterdam  and  Hamburg.  I  ardently  hope  it  is  true." 

"AMERICAN  LEGATION,  BERLIN, 

Tuesday,  June  18,   1878. 

"It  is  one  p.  M.  and  no  letter  from  you  yet!  But  I 
must  at  least  write  and  let  you  know  that  I  didn't  forget 
Bunsen's  on  Saturday.  Nor  the  English  Embassy  last 
evening.  The  reception  was  very  pleasant,  but  no 
crowd — only  a  few  ladies,  all  in  black  silk  and  tarleton 
mixed,  and  few  ornaments.  The  gentlemen  don't  wear 
mourning,  except  black  gloves  when  they  visit  any  K.  K. 
person.  Do  you  think  I  would  wear  crape  for  George 
V.  of  Hanover  ?  At  any  rate,  nobody  else  does.  Beacons- 
field  was  there,  looking  old,  bent  and  ugly;  Salisbury 
unusually  handsome  and  pleasant  to  behold;  Andrassy, 
older  and  more  gipsy-chief-like  than  when  I  saw  him  in 
Vienna;  Waddington,  fair  and  smiling;  and  finally 
Mehemet  AH  Pasha,  the  Turk  from  Magdeburg,  whom 
everybody  was  anxious  to  see.  He  was  simple,  dignified, 
and  with  a  face  full  of  character.  Lady  Odo  was  very 
gracious,  apologized  for  forgetting  your  absence,  and  said, 
'  I  have  so  many  things  to  think  of  these  days,  that  I 
get  quite  bewildered.'  Helmholz  was  there,  and  Gneist, 
who  remembered  me.  All  the  Legations  .  .  .  were 
represented,  and  many  of  the  Imperial  Officials.  Princess 

*  Kurt  von  Schlozer,  then  German  Minister  at  Washington. 


EMPEROR  WILLIAM  I.  AND  PKlNCE  BISMARCK 


SUNSET  281 

Bismarck  and  daughter  came,  but  not  the  Prince.  .  .  . 
Tea  and  ices  were  handed  around,  and  there  was  a  cold 
supper  in  the  dining  hall,  at  which  all  the  ladies  took 
seats.  About  n  Beaconsfield  slowly  hobbled  out,  with 
out  looking  to  the  right  or  left,  or  taking  leave,  so  far 
as  I  could  see.  I  had  a  long  and  delightful  chat  with  v. 
Philipsborn,  ass't  Minister  to  Bulow,  about  Goethe,  and 
also  some  talk  again  with  Helmholz.  They  had  all 
heard,  somehow,  of  Bunsen's  dinner  to  me  on  Saturday. 
(By  the  bye,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  I  didn't  forget  it!) 
Even  Comte  de  St.  Vallier  told  me  that  Waddington 
was  delighted." 

As  indicated  in  one  of  the  foregoing  letters,  it  was 
General  Grant's  intention  to  visit  Berlin  on  his  trip 
around  the  world.  This  plan  was  a  source  of  no  small 
embarrassment  to  the  Minister  of  the  United  States. 
He  was  still  new  in  his  office,  and  under  the  peculiar  cir 
cumstances  prevailing  just  at  that  time  the  question  of 
etiquette  was  a  very  difficult  one.  The  Emperor's  ill- 
health  did  not  permit  him  to  receive  General  Grant, 
while  the  presence  at  Berlin  of  the  distinguished  repre 
sentatives  of  the  European  Powers,  who  possessed  the 
right  of  official  precedence,  required  an  extraordinary 
amount  of  tact,  in  order  to  avoid  any  occasion  for  offense. 
Bayard  Taylor  had  been  presented  to  all  the  Princes  of 
the  Imperial  House  before  the  second  attempt  on  the 
Emperor's  life.  But  he  had  not  yet  been  received  by 
the  Empress,  who  was  at  Baden-Baden  in  May,  and  con 
sequently  not  by  the  Crown  Princess.  So  that  neither 
could  I  be  presented  at  Court,  which  made  it  impossible 
for  me  to  introduce  Mrs.  Grant,  who  accompanied  the 
General.  In  what  manner  the  American  Minister,  my 
husband,  succeeded  in  solving  these  complicated  diffi- 


282  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

culties  may  be  seen  from  the  following  letters,   which 
begin  with  a  wail: 

"  Wednesday  evening,  June  19,   1878. 

"Alas! — and  alas! — and  alas!  No  letter  from  you 
since  Monday  morning,  and  to-day — but  how  can  I  tell 
everything  at  once?  This  morning  there  came  a  letter 
from  Minister  Welch,  in  London,  saying  that  he  had  given 
to  a  family  whom  he  don't  know  very  well  a  letter  of 
introduction  to  me,  and  asking  for  all  sorts  of  statistical 
information  which  his  own  Secretaries  might  just  as  well 
get  for  him ;  but  that  isn't  it!  Then  came  another  German 
naturalization  case,  not  hard  to  manage;  and  that  isn't 
it,  either!  Then  a  letter  from  the  U.  S.  Legation  at  the 
Hague,  with  the  notice,  that — but  let  me  pause  and 
recover  myself! — that  (I  really  don't  know  how  to  break 
the  news  to  you  gradually) — that,  yet  how  can  I  say  it? 
— that,  well,  I  suppose  it  must  be  said — that — that — that 
General  and  Mrs.  Grant  will  arrive  here  early  next  week, 
probably  on  Wednesday  evening.  I  telegraphed  at  once 
to  the  Hague,  asking  if  I  should  secure  quarters,  Berlin 
being  so  crowded,  and  how  long  the  Ex-Pres't.  would 
stay.  The  answer  has  just  come :  '  Gen.  Grant's  courier 
will  secure  quarters;  thanks  for  your  dispatch.'  So  I 
am  no  wiser  than  I  was  before;  and  now,  with  Congress 
in  session,  the  Emperor  evidently  worse  than  reported, 
and  all  sorts  of  things  going  on,  what  am  I  to  do  ?  . 
Of  course  I  can't  think  of  going  to  Friedrichroda  now, 
and  the  question  is,  whether  it  wouldn't  be  well  for  you  to 
come  here  and  help  Mrs.  G.  Pray  think  it  over,  and  I'll 
write  or  telegraph  to  you  by  Saturday,  if  I  learn  anything 
more." 

"AMERICAN  LEGATION,  BERLIN, 
"Thursday  evening,  June  20,  1878. 

"  I  called  this  morning  on  Ceremonienmeister  v.  Roder, 
who  was  out;  but  he  returned  the  call  in  an  hour.  He 
leaves  to-morrow,  and  could  only  give  me  good  advice 


SUNSET  283 

about  Gen.  Grant.  He  thinks  the  Empress  will  not 
receive,  and  that  the  official  presentations  will  be  con 
fined  to  the  Crown-Prince,  Pr.  Fr.  Carl,  and  Bismarck. 
.  .  .  This  afternoon  Everett  and  I  drove  in  the  Thier- 
garten.  We  passed  an  empty  Royal  equipage,  and 
soon  afterward  came  the  Empress,  walking  with  an 
Adjutant,  alone.  She  moved  very  slowly  and  feebly, 
and  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground.  There  was  some 
thing  inexpressibly  sad  and  dejected  in  her  appearance, 
and  it  touched  me  profoundly. 

"Last  night,  we  went  together  to  Count  Carolyi's. 
It  was  really  delightful ;  and  I  cannot  yet  explain  the  dif 
ference  of  atmosphere  and  spirit  between  his  reception 
and  Lord  Odo's,  since  the  company  was  nearly  the  same. 
I  made  a  slight  faux  pas  in  following  Everett's  advice 
to  ask  Waddington  to  introduce  me  to  Beaconsfield 
(since  Lord  Odo  had  not  arrived).  Waddington,  in  the 
gentlest  and  politest  way,  said  that  he  would  do  it  with 
pleasure,  a  little  later,  if  no  one  better  authorized  should 
be  present.  So  I  went  to  Carolyi,  who  presented  me  at 
once,  as  he  had  the  right  to  do,  and  Beaconsfield  received 
me  in  a  conventionally  friendly  way.  I  said  to  him :  '  It 
is  the  author,  not  less  than  the  statesman,  whom  I 
desire  to  know/  He  looked  at  me,  and  asked  'Why?' 
I  answered :  '  Because  I  am  much  more  an  author  than 
a  statesman.'  Then  he  suddenly  said :  '  Are  you  Bayard 
Taylor? '  *  Yes. '  *  Shake  hands  again ! '  he  exclaimed,  with 
something  almost  like  enthusiasm  in  so  old  an  Israelite ; 
'I  have  known  you  for  years  through  your  works!'  He 
was  excessively  cordial  thenceforth,  but  oh! — how  fear 
fully  ugly  he  has  become!  Red-edged,  watery  eyes 
(one  blind,  they  say),  protruding  under-lip,  hooked  nose, 
sallow,  puffy  skin,  and  the  general  aspect  of  a  hungry 
vulture,  it  amazes  me  to  think  of  this  man's  history. 
I  spoke  to  him  about  his  works  and  we  got  on  capitally 
together ;  then  I  presented  Everett  and  Coleman. 

"  Lord  Odo,  at  my  request,  introduced  me  to  the  Mar- 


284  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

quis  of  Salisbury.  He  is  tall,  large  and  rather  handsome, 
but  none  too  intellectual.  I  spoke  of  the  pleasant  tem 
perature  prevailing,  and  hoped  he  liked  it  'It's  getting 
to  be  altogether  too  hot,'  he  said;  and  something  in  his 
tone  made  me  remark :  '  I  speak  of  the  external  air,  not  of 
the  temperature  inside  certain  walls.'  He  looked  startled 
a  moment,  and  then  we  both  burst  into  hearty  laughter. 
Then  I  told  him  that,  as  the  representative  of  a  power 
nowise  concerned  in  the  Congress,  I  was  neither  curious 
nor  impatient.  He  began  to  protest :  '  Oh,  I  assure  you 
we  are  all  cool,  oh,  very  cool  indeed.'  'Are  you?'  said 
I ;  he  roared  again,  and  somebody  came  up  and  interrupted 
the  conversation.  Then  I  met  Countess  Marie  v.  Bis 
marck,  who  said :  *  I  have  seen  you  already. '  I  answered : 
'I  am  sure  I  have  not  had  the  honor.'  'I  was  looking 
out  of  the  back- window, '  she  said,  '  and  I  saw  you  walking 
in  the  garden  with  papa.  He  told  me  who  it  was,  and 
said  he  had  such  a  pleasant  walk  with  you.'  Schlozer 
then  came  up,  and  insisted  on  presenting  me  to  a  lady 
who  was  possessed  to  make  my  acquaintance — the 
Countess  Oriolla.  And  who  do  you  think  she  is?  Why, 
the  daughter  of  Bettina,  and  the  sister  of  Gisela!* 

"I  had  quite  a  talk  with  Mehemet  Ali  Pasha,  whom 
I  heartily  like,  met  Count  de  Launay,  Count  Corti,  and 
had  a  little  conversation  with  Andrassy,  who  is  a  gipsy- 
chief  in  feature,  if  ever  there  was  one.  ...  It  was, 
on  the  whole,  a  free,  cordial,  altogether  pleasant  recep 
tion,  and  I  felt  all  the  better  for  it.  .  .  .  You  will 
understand,  of  course,  that  I  can't  possibly  come  on 
Saturday.  Count  St.  Vallier  invites  me  to  meet  the 
Congress  at  9^  that  evening.  ...  I  must  wait  until 
Gen.  Grant's  departure,  and  then  I'll  come  at  any  time,  in 
the  middle  of  the  week,  probably.  No  more  business  has 
turned  up  for  two  days  past,  and  the  only  dispatch  from 
Washington  (by  the  bag,  to-day)  says  'Your  dispatches 
are  read  with  much  interest.'  Now,  in  regard  to  your 

*  Hermann  Grimm's  wife. 


SUNSET  285 

coming  here,  I  am  still  in  doubt.  ...  If  I  were 
certain  that  you  would  need  no  Court  presentations, 
I  should  say '  come!' — and  I'll  try  to  ascertain  to-morrow." 

"June  21,   1878. 

"  I  have  just  come  from  Count  Eulenburg,  Hofmar- 
schall  to  the  Crown-Prince.  I  have  pretty  much  decided 
what  I  can  and  can't  do.  Thus  stands  the  case :  Grant's 
courier  has  engaged  quarters  for  him  at  the  Kaiserhof, 
so  no  need  of  my  offering  ours.  Birney  (U.  S.  Minister 
at  the  Hague)  writes  that  G.  will  arrive  here  Wednesday. 
I  shall  go  to  Stendal  (100  kilom.)  to  meet  him,  have  my 
carriage  at  the  station  to  take  him  to  Kaiserhof,  and 
afterwards  at  his  and  Mrs.  G's  disposal,  while  they  are 
here.  Count  E.  thanked  me  for  letting  him  know  at 
once,  says  he  will  arrange  everything  with  me,  that  the 
Crown-Prince  will  receive  Grant  at  once,  but  the  Empress 
most  probably  not. 

"I  have  arranged  that  Grant  and  his  wife  shall  have 
an  opportunity  to  receive  all  the  Americans  here,  at  the 
Legation,  on  a  fixed  evening,  with  tea,  ices  and  cakes  for 
refreshments.  Everyone  seems  to  think  this  will  be 
proper,  then,  I  shall  give  no  formal,  official  dinner  (which 
would  involve  no  end  of  trouble,  questions  of  etiquette 
and  expense),  but  shall  pick  out  a  select  company  of  about 
a  dozen,  all  of  whom  speak  English.  .  .  .  That  is — 
I  shall  wait  until  Grant  comes,  and  propose  it  to  him. 
.  .  .  Grant  will  stay  about  six  days;  so,  if  he  wishes 
to  see  the  High-Mightinesses  of  the  Congress,  I  have  only 
to  take  him  to  the  receptions  of  Lord  Odo,  Carolyi  and 
St.  Vallier.  He  will  there  informally  meet  with  every 
body,  and  I  am  sure  it  will  be  much  more  agreeable  to 
him. 

"This  leaves  you  tolerably  free  to  act  as  you  please. 
You  can  either  come,  preside  at  the  American  reception, 
support  Mrs.  Grant  at  the  dinner  (no  other  ladies!)  and 
appear  once  at  each  of  the  evening  receptions  while  they 


286  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

are  here,  or — you  can  stay  away,  on  account  of  your 
health.  .  .  .  But  you  need  not  decide  before  Monday. 
I  will  telegraph  whenever  anything  turns  up  to  indicate 
what  is  best." 

"June  22,  1878. 

"I  have  half  an  hour  before  dressing  for  Delbruck's 
dinner,  and  sit  down  to  send  you  something  more.  Yester 
day  evening  I  drove  to  Bunsens,  and  sat  an  hour  in  the 
garden  with  them.  .  .  .  Bunsen  is  simply  charming. 
As  I  was  going  away,  I  begged  a  rose  from  Frau  v.  B. 
and  she  gave  me  3  or  4  dark-red  Persian  blossoms,  which 
have  kept  the  Legation  sweet  all  day.  This  morning, 
just  after  I  wrote  to  you,  Curtius  called.  He  asked  par 
ticularly  after  you  and  your  mother,  and  said  that  if 
Grant  should  care  to  see  the  Olympian  antiquities,  and 
I  would  let  him  know,  he  would  be  on  hand  to  explain. 
(Another  good  arrangement!)  This  afternoon  I  have 
punctually  returned  all  necessary  calls,  including  an  hour 
with  Lindau,  whom  I  shall  see  again  to-night  at  the  soiree 
of  Comte  de  St.  Vallier.  He  was  very  cordial,  and  is  an 
excellent  Kamerad." 

"AMERICAN  LEGATION,  BERLIN, 
"Sunday  morning,  June  23,   1878. 

"I  may  as  well  begin  now  to  write  to  you,  as  the 
morning  mail  brings  no  official  business  which  /  need 
attend  to.  The  day  is  thoroughly  bright  and  hot,  and 
I  shall  presently  take  a  walk  in  the  shadiest  part  of  the 
Thiergarten.  The  dinner,  yesterday,  was  very  pleasant. 
.  .  .  After  dinner,  I  took  Schlozer  to  drive  an  hour  in 
the  Thiergarten,  and  finally  went  to  the  French  Embassy 
about  ten.  .  .  .  St.  Vallier  presented  me  to  Count 
Nesselrode,  who  said  that  the  Empress  was  quite  anxious 
to  see  me,  and  might  send  me  word  to  appear  on  Monday, 
at  half  past  one.  At  any  rate,  he  advised  me  to  be  ready 
for  a  summons.  If  it  happens  so,  I  shall  then  instantly 
apply  for  presentation  to  the  Crown-Princess.  I  spoke 
particularly  to  St.  Vallier,  Lord  Odo  and  Carolyi  about 


SUNSET  287 

Grant's  coming,  and  secured  the  most  pressing  invitation 
from  each  one  for  him  and  Mrs.  Grant  to  attend  the 
diplomatic  soirees.  Lord  Odo  commissioned  me  to  say 
that  he  would  be  *  proud  and  honored. '  He  was  markedly 
cordial,  perhaps  because  the  Marquis  of  Salisbury  received 
me  so  heartily.  I  asked  the  latter:  'Do  you  find  the 
temperature  any  better?'  and  he  laughed  as  loudly  as 
I  often  do.  We  were  just  getting  into  a  cheery  talk, 
when  Nothomb  came  and  asked  me  to  present  him — 
which  I  did.  I  also  made  the  acquaintance  of  Prince 
Hohenlohe,  who  is  small,  quiet-mannered  and  agreeable. 
Counts  Corti  and  De  Launay  were  especially  friendly — 
in  fact,  I  felt  for  the  first  time  that  I  was  received  on  the 
footing  of  familiar  acquaintanceship,  and  midnight  came 
surprisingly  quick.  Lord  Odo  and  St.  Vallier  both  said 
that  it  would  be  very  difficult  for  me,  just  now,  to  give 
Grant  a  satisfactory  dinner,  and  no  one  would  expect  me  to 
do  it.  I  also  spoke  to  Philipsborn  about  Grant  seeing 
Bismarck,  and  he  said  that  Biilow  would  arrange  every 
thing  for  me. 

" There! — you  see  that  I  have  prepared  for  all  that  can 
be  done,  and  (I  think)  in  the  simplest  and  best  way." 

"Tuesday  morning,  June  25,  1878. 
"As  there  is  no  business  whatever  on  hand,  I  may  as 
well  write  a  line  this  morning.  ...  As  soon  as  I 
sent  off  the  letter  (last  evening)  I  lay  down  on  the  sofa, 
and  slept  so  soundly  that  Harris  could  hardly  get  me 
awake  at  9^.  There  was  a  small  but  pleasant  party  at 
Lord  Odo's.  Count  Nesselrode  said  that  the  Empress 
could  not  receive  me  yesterday  because  the  Count  of 
Flanders  came  unexpectedly.  I  said  to  Beaconsfield: 
'I  don't  know  whether  you  remember  me?'  and  he  an 
swered:  'Yes  I  do;  you  are  sans  peur  et  sans  reproche!' 
The  Marquis  of  Salisbury  came  up,  exclaiming :  '  It's 
getting  hotter  and  hotter, '  and  burst  into  his  usual  laugh. 
I  presented  the  Baroness  Jauru  to  Waddington,  and  the 


288  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

Japanese  Minister  to  Beaconsfield — in  fact,  it's  rather 
astonishing  that  I  am  constantly  asked  to  be  a  sort  of 
Master  of  Ceremonies.  .  .  .  Lady  Odo  appeared  in 
white;  all  the  others  in  black.  The  mourning  is  slowly 
wearing  off.  I  only  stayed  an  hour,  came  home  and 
slept  8  hours,  and  am  still  sleepy  this  morning!  But  I 
think  it  is  a  good  sign.  Last  night  Grant  telegraphed 
that  he  would  be  'most  happy'  to  meet  me  at  Stendal. 
Colerrrn  will  go  with  me,  and  perhaps  J.  R.  Young. 
U.  S.  G.  has  excellent  quarters  at  the  Kaiserhof — 4  rooms 
on  the  ist  floor.  If  no  more  work  comes  in  I  shall  get 
along  very  well." 

"  Wednesday  morning,  June  26,  1878. 

"  I  have  just  received  your  yesterday's  letter,  and  must 
honestly  confess  that  I  am  glad  you  are  coming.  I  do 
begin  to  feel  a  little  tired,  having  so  much  on  my  shoulders, 
and  hardly  know  what  I  shall  do  with  Mrs.  Grant  without 
your  help.  .  .  .  Coleman  had  symptoms  of  malaria 
fever  yesterday,  and  I  don't  feel  sure  of  him  any  longer, 
you  can  therefore  easily  understand  that  the  visit  may 
turn  out  to  be  a  little  too  much  for  me. 

"  I  had  a  charming  dinner  with  Rodenberg  last  evening 
— Auerbach,  Max  Maria  v.  Weber,  Etienne  of  the  Wiener 
Freie  Presse,  Kruse  of  the  Kolnische  Zietung  and  Abel 
of  the  London  Times.  .  .  . 

"Afterwards  I  went  to  Bunsen's  to  tea,  finding  every 
body  in  the  garden,  and  stayed  until  n.  I  was  talking 
with  Falk,  saying  goodbye  to  him  alone,  in  a  quiet  path, 
holding  his  hand  and  exclaiming:  "Stehen  Sie  fest  und 
Harren  Sie  aus!"*  when  Lasker  came  up  and  took  my 
other  hand,  and  for  a  moment  we  stood  like  the  three 
men  of  Grutli.f  It  was  really  a  picturesque  meeting. 

*"Stand  firm  and  persevere!" 

fThis  little  incident  refers  to  struggles  which  went  on  at  this  period 
in  the  internal  affairs  of  Germany.  Falk  was  the  Minister  famous 
in  the  Kulturkampf,  whose  position  had  been  shaken  lately  by  Bis 
marck's  unexpected  veering  toward  "Canossa."  Lasker  was  one  of 
the  leaders  of  the  National  Liberals  in  the  German  Parliament. 


SUNSET  289 

I  like  Falk  very  much.  Helmholz  was  also  there,  and 
lots  of  other  famous  people.  I  took  Waddington  aside, 
and  consulted  him  about  Grant.  He  said  promptly: 
'  Don't  try  to  give  a  dinner — it  will  be  very  difficult,  and 
the  etiquette  will  cause  you  trouble.  /  could  not  invite 
the  Diplomatic  Corps  to  the  dinner  I  gave  Gen.  Grant 
in  Paris,  for  that  reason.'  Then  I  told  him  about  my 
idea  of  a  breakfast,  and  he  said :  '  That  will  do ;  you  can 
manage  that ;  but  if  you  have  Biilow,  he  takes  precedence. ' 
I  said:  'suppose  I  give  Biilow  my  place?'  *  Ah,'  he  cried; 
'that  will  make  everything  right!'  'Would  you  come?' 
I  asked.  'Certainly,'  said  he,  'if  it  is  a  day  when  the 
Congress  doesn't  meet:  I  can  do  what  I  please,  and  I 
should  certainly  raise  no  point  of  etiquette/ 

"This  is  great  comfort  to  me,  as  you  may  imagine. 
When  I  came  home,  I  found  that  Count  Eulenburg  and 
Herr  v.  Mohl*  had  been  here,  the  former  very  anxious 
to  see  me;  so  I  drove  to  the  palace  at  9}  this  morning 
and  saw  him.  Everything  is  nicely  arranged.  The 
Crown-Prince  will  receive  Grant  (with  me)  to-morrow, 
and  give  him  (also  with  me)  a  dinner  at  Potsdam  on 
Friday.  I  am  to  write  to  the  Countess  Briihl  about  Mrs. 
Grant.  The  Crown-Princess  knows  that  I  am  waiting 
on  the  Empress,  yet  will  receive  me  before  dinner.  I 
explained  your  absence  thoroughly,  and  made  it  all 
right  with  the  Hohen  Herrschaften.  You  can  come,  all 
the  same,  and  be  here  unofficially." 

My  husband's  confession  that  he  felt  "a  little  tired" 
meant  more  than  his  words  conveyed.  Next  day  I 
received  a  telegram  from  him:  "Be  sure  and  come  to 
morrow,  I  need  you."  I  hurried  my  departure  as  much 
as  possible,  and  arriving  in  Berlin  Friday  evening,  was 
received  at  the  station  by  our  two  Secretaries  of  the 
Legation.  I  learned  that  my  husband  had  been  seriously 

*Secretary  of  the  Empress,  formerly  German  Consul  at  Cincinnati. 


290  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

ill  two  days  before,  but  that  his  physician  had  so  far 
restored  him  as  to  enable  him  to  meet  General  Grant 
at  Stendal,  and  also  to  fulfil  his  other  duties.  Mr. 
Everett  stayed  with  me  about  half  an  hour,  until  Taylor 
returned  from  the  dinner  at  Potsdam.  He  entered  the 
room,  with  a  light  overcoat  thrown  across  his  shoulders, 
a  bouquet  in  his  buttonhole,  pale,  but  in  a  mood  of  pleas 
urable  excitement.  Almost  his  first  words  were,  "I  am 
so  glad,  I  have  won  my  first  diplomatic  victory!"  Then 
he  told  us  that  von  Biilow  had  whispered  to  him  during 
the  dinner:  "Everything  shall  be  settled  according  to 
your  wishes!"*  Then  he  related  how  he  had  come  by 
the  bouquet  in  his  buttonhole.  After  the  close  of  the 
dinner  he  turned  to  the  table  and  took  a  red  verbena 
from  one  of  the  flower  centrepieces,  when  he  noticed  that 
the  Crown  Prince  and  Princess  were  watching  him  from 
the  opposite  side.  He  bowed  and  remarked,  "I  confess 
that  this  is  theft,  but  I  never  see  flowers  that  they  do  not 
tempt  me."  Both  smiled,  and  the  Crown  Prince  replied, 
"Take  as  many  as  you  like." 

The  following  morning  I  called  on  Mrs.  Grant  and 
offered  her  my  services.  The  day  was  filled  with  engage 
ments,  and  in  the  evening  we  gave  a  large  reception,  to 
which  all  the  Americans  in  Berlin  had  been  invited.  The 
comparatively  small  apartment  (we  were  still  in  our  tem 
porary  quarters)  was  hardly  able  to  contain  the  number 
of  guests,  and  all  of  course  wished  to  be  introduced  to 
General  and  Mrs.  Grant,  and  to  shake  hands  with  them. 
The  former  declined  any  other  kind  of  entertainment, 
and  accepted  only  a  family  dinner  at  our  solicitation. 

*The  matter  in  question  was  the  naturalisation  case  mentioned  on 
page  277. 


SUNSET  291 

He  recognised  the  state  of  affairs,  and  was  far  too  informal 
and  republican  in  his  tastes  to  be  willing  to  cause  any 
inconvenience  to  the  representative  of  his  country.  At 
his  request  we  invited  to  our  little  dinner,  beside  the 
guests  of  honour,  only  the  two  Secretaries  of  Legation 
and  the  American  Consul-General  with  his  wife.  Taylor 
had  in  the  meantime  almost  recovered  from  his  indis 
position  and  was  at  his  best  in  the  character  of  an  amiable 
host.  As  a  special  compliment  to  the  General  he  had 
composed  the  following  amusing  menu: 

SOUP 
Hasty  Plate,  a  la  Win  Field. 

FISH 
Saumon  du  Mississippi,  d  la  Vicksburg. 

ENTREE 

Sweetbreads,    d  la  Appomatox    (furnished  to   the  hungry 

Rebels) 

ROAST 

Beef  Americain  douteux. 

ICES 
(To  counteract  the  warmth  of  the  reception  in  Berlin.) 

FRUITS 

Reconnaissants,  d  la  White  House. 

COFFEE 

Cordial  de  Cedarcroft. 

Aside  from  the  dinner  given  by  the  Crown  Prince,  the 
official  courtesies  accorded  to  the  ex-President  and 
celebrated  commander-in-chief  were  necessarily  con 
fined  to  a  review  of  several  divisions  of  the  army  that 
was  held  in  his  honour  outside  of  the  city.  The  German 
officers  present  were  rather  astonished  to  see  General 


292  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

Grant  appear  in  civilian  clothes;  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
simple  republican  that  he  was,  he  had  left  his  uniform  at 
home!  On  the  following  day  Prince  Bismarck  gave  him 
a  dinner,  with  twenty  invited  guests,  to  which  the  Amer 
ican  Minister  and  wife  were  also  bidden.  Mrs.  Grant 
had  the  seat  of  honour  at  the  great  chancellor's  right;  I 
was  placed  at  his  left,  while  the  Princess  sat  opposite, 
between  the  General  and  Bayard  Taylor.  As  this  was 
not  an  official  affair,  there  was  an  utter  absence  of  any 
restraint  not  dictated  by  good  taste,  and  conversation 
was  informal.  At  first,  indeed,  I  felt  oppressed  by  the 
weight  of  Bismarck's  personality,  but  I  soon  gained 
an  insight  into  his  human  character  when  he  assured 
me  that  he  had  never  met  with  a  more  attractive,  amiable 
man  than  my  husband.  I  judged  from  this  that  he 
could  be  a  man  like  other  men.  During  the  dinner  I 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Tyras ;  the  immense  beast  sud 
denly  thrust  his  large  head  between  myself  and  my 
neighbour  on  the  left,  and  permitted  me  to  caress  him, 
a  proceeding  which  was  said  to  be  a  great  favour  on  his 
part. 

Coffee  was  served  in  the  drawing-room  while  most  of 
the  guests  stood  about  in  groups.  The  Chancellor  and 
General  Grant  were  the  only  ones  who  smoked.  They 
sat  side  by  side  in  two  armchairs,  the  former  with  his  long 
pipe,  the  latter  with  his  cigar,  and  chatted  together  as 
peacefully  as  if  there  had  never  been  any  battles  or  con 
flicts,  never  any  victories  illustrious  in  history. 

After  the  dinner  in  the  Chancellor's  palace  we  drove 
with  General  and  Mrs.  Grant  to  the  English  Embassy, 
where  numerous  guests  were  already  assembled.  Lord 
and  Lady  Odo  Russell  received  us  with  great  cordiality 


SUNSET  293 

and  a  few  interesting  hours  passed  very  quickly.  Among 
the  diplomats  who  were  introduced  to  me,  the  figure  of 
Lord  Beaconsfield  stands  before  my  eyes  after  all  these 
years  as  the  most  eminent  personality.  He  was  a  dis 
tinguished  man,  if  only  for  the  reason  that  he  held  the 
winning  cards  in  the  Congress;  but  what  struck  me 
most  was  the  studied  nonchalance,  the  aristocratic  self- 
confidence  that  he  showed.  And  in  truth  he  had  reason 
to  feel  himself  superior  to  his  colleagues ;  for  he  had  the 
English-Turkish  treaty  in  his  pocket,  which  gave  Cyprus 
to  England,  and  which  he  played  as  a  trump  card  in  the 
Congress  a  few  days  later. 

This  was  doomed  to  be  the  only  occasion  when  I 
appeared  in  the  diplomatic  circle  in  Berlin.  A  noted 
physician,  formerly  attached  to  the  Grand  Duke  of 
Tuscany,  said  to  me  once  in  Rome:  "Life  is  a  comedy 
at  first,  later  it  becomes  a  drama,  and  finally  a  tragedy." 
The  tragedy  had  begun  for  us,  without  our  being  as  yet 
conscious  of  the  fact. 

General  and  Mrs.  Grant  departed  on  July  3d,  and  after 
the  celebration  of  the  Fourth,  Taylor  accompanied  me 
to  Friedrichroda,  in  order  to  seek  a  much-needed  rest. 
Scarcely  had  he  recuperated  somewhat  in  the  aromatic 
forest  air  when  his  exaggerated  conscientiousness  took 
fright  at  the  idea  that  he  was  neglecting  his  duties  in 
staying  away  from  his  post.  In  vain  both  Secretaries, 
whom  he  had  left  in  charge  of  the  Legation  during  his 
absence,  wrote  to  him  that  everything  was  going  on 
smoothly,  and  that  no  business  requiring  the  Minister's 
presence  had  come  in.  A  feeling  of  unrest  possessed 
him,  he  could  not  settle  down  quietly,  but  made  repeated 
trips  between  the  Thuringian  Forest  and  Berlin  during 


294  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS 

the  following  month ;  his  physical  condition  in  the  mean 
time  was  sometimes  better,  sometimes  worse.  In  August 
Berthold  Auerbach  came  to  Friedrichroda,  and  his 
presence  seemed  to  have  a  cheering  influence  upon  my 
husband.  During  the  short  time  that  the  genial  author 
stayed  we  saw  him  daily.  He  showed  us  the  most 
amiable  side  of  his  nature,  was  companionable,  humor 
ous  and  full  of  interest  in  the  most  manifold  intellectual 
topics.  He  made  many  complimentary  remarks  to  me 
about  my  husband  and  my  married  life.  One  of  his 
observations  concerning  the  former  was  to  the  effect: 
"Although  endowed  with  an  unbridled  imagination,  that 
tempts  him  to  kick  over  the  traces,  he  is  always  the  aris 
tocratic  gentleman,  who  behaves  like  a  lord."  He  was 
greatly  struck  by  the  change  in  Taylor's  appearance,  and 
seriously  advised  me  to  insist  upon  a  medical  consultation 
on  our  return  to  Berlin.  In  the  middle  of  August,  how 
ever,  my  husband's  health  appeared  to  take  a  sudden 
decided  turn  for  the  better,  so  that  he  declared  his  vaca 
tion  to  be  at  an  end,  and  went  back  to  Berlin  to  stay. 

Since  the  close  of  the  Congress  society  had  been  abso 
lutely  dead  in  the  capital,  and  Taylor  might  have  enjoyed 
a  temporary  reprieve,  if  the  wedding  festivities  of  the 
eldest  daughter  of  Prince  Friedrich  Karl  with  Prince 
Henry  of  Orange  had  not  intervened.  The  nuptials  were 
celebrated  on  August  24th  in  Potsdam,  and  all  the  mem 
bers  of  the  diplomatic  corps,  who  happened  to  be  in  Berlin 
at  the  time,  were  required  to  be  present.  It  was  gener 
ally  known  that  the  marriage  had  been  arranged  for 
political  reasons.  As  the  aged  King  of  Holland  was  a 
childless  widower,  and  no  one  then  dreamed  of  his  taking 
a  second  wife,  Prince  Henry  was  heir  apparent.  His 


SUNSET  295 

years  were  far  in  advance  of  those  of  his  fiancee,  and  she 
was  popularly  supposed  to  have  yielded  an  unwilling 
consent.  My  husband  wrote  to  me  concerning  the  pre 
liminary  festivities,  which  consisted  in  a  gala  performance 
at  the  Royal  Opera  ,  as  follows : 

''August  24,   1878. 

"I  drove  in  the  Thiergarten,  called  on  Boyesen,  dined 
heartily  at  5^,  and  at  7^  found  myself  on  the  front  seat 
of  a  proscenium  box,  beside  Counts  Benomar  and  De 
Launay,  with  Rochussen,  Prollius  and  Deering — who  is 
now  charge — behind  us.  .  .  .  Prince  Fred.  Carl  and 
the  Crown-Prince  of  Holland  sat  opposite,  but  the  ladies 
in  the  Royal  box  were  so  far  away,  that,  having  no  opera 
glass  I  couldn't  make  them  out.  The  operetta  and  ballet 
were  very  lively  and  pleasant.  It  lasted  3  hours,  and  I 
got  to  bed  at  n,  a  little  tired.  ...  I  shall  take 
Carl  with  me  this  evening  to  Potsdam.  The  ceremonies 
commence  at  7,  and  the  understanding  among  the  Diplo 
mats  last  night  was  that  they  would  last  about  2^  hours, 
and  that  we  shall  not  stand  still  all  the  time.  We  shall 
get  a  fine  supper  and  be  sent  back  about  n  by  a  special 
train.  I  am  quite  sure  I  can  stand  that  much  without 
any  damage,  and  after  having  appeared  at  the  Opera,  I 
can't  now  well  stay  away." 

On  the  day  after  the  marriage  I  received  a  long  letter 
from  my  husband.  With  the  exception  of  a  few  brief 
lines,  this  was  the  last  one  that  he  wrote  to  me.  It  runs 
thus: 

"Sunday,  n  A.  M.,  Aug.  25,  1878. 

"A  great  deal  has  taken  place  in  the  last  24  hours,  and  I 
must  try  to  give  you  a  tolerable  report  of  it.  Fortunately, 
not  a  single  letter  has  come  this  morning,  and  nobody 
has  called;  so  after  sleeping  late,  breakfasting  heartily, 
reading  all  the  papers,  and  taking  a  Russian  bath,  I  find 
myself  in  a  comfortable  mood  for  writing.  It  has  been 


296  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

raining  steadily  since  yesterday  afternoon,  although  now 
there  are  signs  of  clearing.  The  temperature  is  just  right, 
and  the  air  soft  and  fresh. 

"  Friday  evening,  just  as  I  had  put  on  my  hat  to  drive 
to  the  opera,  came  three  men  in  a  state  of  great  haste 
and  excitement.  One  stated  in  German  that  he  had 
arrested  the  other,  who  was  an  American :  the  third  was 
a  frightened  friend  of  the  second.  The  first  wanted  to 
know  if  I  would  become  security  for  the  prisoner,  who 
was  charged  with  violating  some  patent  law;  his  name 

was  C .  He  offered  me  his  letter  of  credit,  but  I  told 

him  that  it  was  just  as  good  security  for  the  German 
authorities,  if  genuine;  that  I  must  first  be  sure  of  his 
Americanship ;  that  all  the  offices  were  already  closed; 
and  finally,  that  I  was  going  to  a  festival  by  the  invitation 
of  the  Government,  and  they  must  come  again  in  the 
morning. 

"Yesterday  forenoon,  however,  only  one  person  came 

— a  young  Dr.  D ,  of  Boston,  handsome,  refined  and 

prepossessing.  He  was  the  third,  who  had  called  the 

night  before.  He  told  me  that  Mr.  C was  a  great 

manufacturer  of  Worcester,  Mass.,  worth  over  $2,000,000. 

The  inventor  of  the  celebrated  "C loom,"  and  an 

intimate  friend  of  Ward  the  sculptor,  and  many  other 
artists.  A  manufacturing  firm  in  Chemnitz  had  been 
using  his  looms  under  a  contract  to  pay  a  certain  royalty. 
As  they  did  not  pay,  C went  to  Chemnitz  and  dis 
covered  that  they  were  unlawfully  manufacturing  his 
looms  themselves.  He  brought  suit  against  them,  and 
out  of  revenge  they  had  him  arrested  through  a  tele 
graphic  dispatch  from  the  Staatsanwalt,  charging  him 
with  violation  of  the  German  patent  laws!  The  case 
seemed  to  be  so  serious  that  I  sent  Coleman  off  with 

Dr.  D to  look  into  it.  Meanwhile  I  received  four 

Americans,  one  of  whom — Judge  W of  Penn'a — 

brought  me  a  letter  of  introduction  from  Evarts.  He 
and  Judge  P of  Illinois,  are  Delegates  to  the  Prison 


SUNSET  297 

Reform  Convention  at  Stockholm,  and  want  to  see  the 
prisons  here.  I  have  thought  it  necessary  to  invite  them 
to  a  plain  dinner  here,  to-day,  and  everything  is  arranged. 
Johanna  and  Carl  are  properly  instructed,  and  I  have 
engaged  Auguste  to  wash  the  only  6  silver  knives  and 
forks  between  each  course.*  .  .  .  The  menu  is: 
soup,  salmon  and  potatoes,  chops  and  tomatoes,  par 
tridge  and  peas,  auflauf,  bread  and  cheese;  and  it  will 
be  a  sumptuous  affair  for  those  plain  Pennsylvanians. 

"Well — :Coleman  came  back,  having  visited  C in 

the  prison,  at  the  Police  Headquarters.     C had  been 

all  night  there,  was  alarmed,  desperate  and  almost  sick. 
We  discussed  what  were  best  to  be  done,  finally  con 
cocted  a  fierce  dispatch  to  the  Am.  Consul  at  Chemnitz, 
took  the  carriage  and  drove  again  to  the  police.  At 

first  the  subordinates  refused  to  let  me  see  C ,  as  no 

one  was  there  who  had  requisite  authority.  I  persisted, 
called  for  the  dispatch  which  occasioned  his  arrest,  pointed 
out  its  flimsy  character,  asked  a  few  embarrassing  ques 
tions,  and  succeeded  in  frightening  the  whole  batch  of 

them  out  of  their  shoes.     C was  brought  up,  looking 

the  picture  of  misery :  I  only  gave  him  a  few  encouraging 
words,  but  took  care  to  shake  hands  with  him  in  the  sight 
of  the  officials.  (To  be  concluded  after  what  followeth:) 

"  When  we  got  back  there  were  only  40  minutes  left  to 
dine  and  dress,  before  starting  for  Potsdam.  I  invited 
Coleman,  although  there  was  nothing  but  one  carp,  and 
he  said  he  did  not  like  carp !  I  gave  him  the  one  plate  of 
soup  and  took  beef-tea  myself.  Fortunately  the  carp 
was  enormous,  fresh  and  admirably  cooked ;  so  I  ate  one- 
third  and  he  two- thirds,  saying  that  he  must  have  mis 
taken  some  other  fish  for  carp,  heretofore. 
There  were  300  guests  at  the  station :  it  was  raining,  and 
all  was  confusion.  I  finally  found  a  place  with  two 
gentlemen  who  proved  to  be  the  Pres't.  of  the  Dutch 

*  The  silver  had  been  locked  up  during  Taylor's  frequent  absences, 
and  the  key  mislaid  or  lost. 


298  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

Chamber  of  Deputies  and  the  Mexican  Secretary  of  Lega 
tion.  Count  de  Launay,  as  the  only  Ambassador  pres 
ent,  was  treated  with  the  greatest  obsequiousness,  while 
the  rest  of  us  Ministers  were  allowed  to  shift  for  ourselves. 
I  didn't  believe  that  Carl  could  get  along  with  us,  but 
when  we  reached  Wildpark  there  he  was  at  the  door,  and 
he  afterwards  shoved  aside  Secretaries  and  Charges  to 
get  me  a  back  carriage  seat. 

"We  reached  the  Palace  at  6J:  the  whole  court-yard 
was  so  crowded  that  I  and  my  companions  would  have 
had  much  embarrassment  without  Carl's  help.  On 
entering  the  Palace  there  was  a  blaze  of  light  everywhere, 
and  a  perfect  tangle  of  people.  I  was  first  struck  by  the 
giant  guardsmen,  in  the  uniform  of  the  last  century :  what 
magnificent  men  they  are!  From  6  to  7  feet  high,  all 
strongly  built,  and  all  with  handsome  faces,  I  could 
scarcely  look  at  anybody  else.  Next  to  them  I  was 
attracted  by  the  Pages,*  boys  of  14  to  17,  in  mediaeval 
costumes  of  scarlet  and  silver,  with  black  velvet  barets 
and  white  ostrich  plumes :  there  must  have  been  60  or  70 
of  them.  In  the  Jasper  hall,  an  altar  and  shrine  were 
arranged  in  the  centre ;  music  pealed  from  an  alcove ;  the 
increasing  crowd  was  dazzling  with  color  and  jewels. 
.  .  .  Two  rows  of  Pages  kept  the  central  space  open 
for  the  Royal  party,  and  a  lot  of  Maitres  de  Ceremonies 

— at  the  head  of  them  an  old,  fussy,  foolish  Baron  R , 

gave  the  guests  their  places.     R moved  me  three 

times,  and  then  I  said :  *  I  shall  be  obliged  if  you  will  at 
last  give  me  a  place  where  I  can  stay!'  After  that  he 
was  wonderfully  polite.  I  was  the  only  person  present 
in  simple  black  and  white,  and  that  ought  to  have  dis 
tinguished  me.  Rudhart,  I  found,  is  my  predecessor  in 
the  diplomatic  corps ;  so,  by  following  him,  I  easily  kept 
in  the  right  place.  The  Princess  R—  -  was  beside  me, 
and  complained  bitterly  of  fatigue  before  the  ceremony 

*  Sons  of  noble  families  who  are  educated  in  an  exclusive  college 
at  the  cost  of  the  Prussian  Government. 


SUNSET  299 

began.  I  talked  a  good  deal  in  order  to  make  her  out. 
This  is  the  result — amiable,  tolerably  natural,  smart  yet 
flippant,  secretly  haughty  yet  desirous  not  to  seem  so 
openly,  and  on  the  whole  slightly  more  interesting  and 
agreeable  than  the  average  of  Court  ladies. 

"The  wedding  was  announced  for  7  o'clock,  and  the 
Royal  party  was  punctual.  Trumpets  proclaimed  the 
approach:  four  clergymen  in  black  basilicas  (or  dal- 
maticas,  I  don't  know  which!)  waited  near  the  door;  and 
there  was  a  moment  of  solemn  and  stately  expectation. 
Gorgeous  lackeys  first  appeared ;  then  the  Marshall,  Prince 
of  Salm-Something,  carrying  a  high  stick  tipped  with 
silver;  then  the  two  official  cavaliers  of  the  bride,  two 
Pages,  and  the  bridal  couple.  And  a  singular  looking 
pair  they  were!  She  .  .  .  walking  with  bent  head, 
eyes  fixed  on  the  floor,  and  a  deep  flush  over  face  and 
neck;  he  like  a  little,  amiable,  refined,  withered,  worn- 
out  beau  of  sixty,  with  pleasant  but  dilapidated  features 
and  uncertain  legs.  Behind  the  Princess,  divided  by  her 
train,  walked  a  Prussian  and  a  Dutch  Dragoness  of  Cere 
monies — then  about  15  feet  in  the  rear,  4  bridesmaids, 
carrying  the  end  of  the  silver  brocade  train  spread  out 
like  a  peacock's  tail.  But  they  were  charming — each  face 
and  form  lovely  as  a  picture,  and  taking  lovelier  groupings 
with  every  step.  I  have  never  seen  anything  more 
beautiful.  The  bride  wore  the  small  crown  of  a  Princess 
on  the  very  top  of  her  hair;  but  it  was  made  of  100  very 
large  diamonds,  and  seemed  to  rain  light  over  her.  She 
also  wore  the  old  crown  diamonds  as  a  stomacher. 

"After  the  pair  came  a  lot  of  high  H  of -Char gen,  two 
more  Pages,  then  the  King  of  Holland  and  the  Crown- 
Princess,  followed  by  their  Court  officials.  The  same 
order  marked  each  pair,  and  there  were  always  grand 
lackeys  and  pages  between.  The  succeeding  pairs  were: 
the  Crown-Prince  with  Princess  Friedrich  Karl;  Prince 
Fr.  Karl  and  the  Grand  Duchess  of  Weimar ;  Prince  Karl 
of  Prussia  and  £>6-Duchess  of  Oldenburg;  Prince  Fred- 


300  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

erick  of  Holland  with  Princess  Albrecht;  the  Grand- 
Duke  of  Weimar  with  his  daughter-in-law;  the  Duke 
of  Connaught  with  his  bride;  and  the  Grand  Duke  of 
Oldenburg  with  the  Erb-Princess  of  Meiningen.  Before 
the  Crown-Prince  went  his  four  youngest  children,  three 
small  girls  and  one  boy,  in  pale  blue  and  silver,  with  little 
bridal  bouquets.  They  were  half  frightened,  but  alto 
gether  beautiful,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  see  how  the  whole 
company  bowed  twice  as  low  to  them  as  to  the  High- 
mighty  persons.  I'm  sure  I  did  it  most  willingly.  The 
slow  and  stately  march  of  the  procession,  the  strains  of 
the  music,  the  dazzle  of  torches  and  wax-lights  and  the 
splendor  of  color,  made  a  most  impressive  picture, 
and  I  longed  intensely  for  you  and  Lilian  to  enjoy 
it  with  me. 

"  There  was  a  hymn  and  a  short  address  by  the  clergy 
man,  and  then  the  marriage  ceremony,  the  first  part  of 
which  requires  the  bridegroom  to  present  the  bride  with 
the  Bible* — a  thing  I  never  saw  before.  At  the  exact 
moment  when  they  gave  each  other  the  rings,  there  was 
a  distant,  sullen  peal  of  thunder — as  I  thought;  but  it 
was  repeated  every  ten  seconds,  the  orchestra  fell  into  a 
new  tempo,  and  the  booming  of  the  cannon  became  part 
of  the  music  thenceforth  to  the  end.  After  the  blessing, 
the  Hallelujah  Chorus  was  sung  with  the  grandest  effect 
and  then  the  procession  returned  in  the  same  order  to 
the  grotto,  or  Hall  of  shells,  to  receive  the  Defile.  The 
Diplomatic  Corps  went  first:  while  the  old,  fussy  R— 
was  mustering  us,  somebody  behind  me  said :  *  Good  even 
ing  ! '  Not  supposing  it  was  meant  for  me  I  did  not  turn ; 
but  the  greeting  was  repeated,  and  I  felt  a  slight  punch 
in  the  side.  It  was  the  Erb-Prinz  of  Weimar! — who 
laughed  as  if  he  had  perpetrated  a  good  joke.  Presently 
somebody  bowed  so  low  I  could  hardly  see  his  face,  and 
said:  ' Excellent,  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  here/  It  was 

*This  custom  and  the  "Fackeltanz,"  described  further  on,  are  cere 
monies  observed  at  the  marriage  of  every  member  of  the  Royal  house 
of  Hohenzollern. 


SUNSET  301 

M v.  W ,*  who  had  to  fall  back  and  make  way 

for  us,  but  not  before  he  had  whispered :  '  Be  sure  and 
come  to  Gotha  in  the  winter:  we  shall  make  it  very 
pleasant  for  you.' 

"There  were  so  few  Ministers  that  I  was  about  the 
tenth  in  the  Defile.  .  .  .  The  Royal  party  sat  on  a 
dais,  along  one  side  of  the  grand  hall.  All  the  central 
space  was  clear,  and  the  three  other  sides  were  crammed 
with  guests,  Court  officials,  Pages,  with  the  giant  guards 
looming  up  in  the  background,  and  the  horns  and  trum 
pets  blowing.  Following  Rudhart,  I  caught  his  step 
at  the  door  and  walked  rapidly  in  time  with  him  and  the 
music.  Each  faced  the  bridal  couple  rapidly,  bowed 
profoundly,  wheeled  and  walked  two  or  three  steps,  faced 
the  King  of  Holland  and  Crown-Princess,  bowed ;  walked 
on  and  gave  the  third  and  last  bow  to  the  Crown-Prince. 
.  .  .  It  was  all  over  in  half  a  minute,  and  I  had  no 
time  to  feel  embarrassed.  All  the  rest  of  the  company 
followed  us,  according  to  precedence,  but  we  hurried 
upstairs  to  find  our  places  at  the  supper-table.  Mine 
was  between  Rudhart  and  Arapoff,  and  opposite  Deering, 
so  I  got  along  very  well.  .  .  .  The  supper  lasted,  I 
should  think,  about  f  of  an  hour,  and  it  was  not  particu 
larly  good,  except  the  single  glasses  of  Johannisberger 
and  Lafitte.  I  stole  three  tea-roses,  rather  withered,  cut 
a  white  bridal  button-hole  bouquet  from  a  bon-bon  and 
wore  it,  and  brought  away  the  gorgeous  menu  for  your 
collection.  Also,  a  bon-bon,  with  photograph  of  Crown- 
Prince  for  Lilian.  As  every  one  had  a  chair,  the  supper 
was  a  great  rest,  and  the  accompanying  music  was  superb. 
At -the  royal  table,  on  the  platform,  a  Page  stood  behind 
each  chair,  and  the  effect  of  color  was  very  fine. 

"After  supper  we  returned  to  the  jasper  hall,  took  our 
former  places,  and  the  Fackeltanz  began.  The  shrine 
and  altar  had  been  meanwhile  removed  and  a  raised 
platform,  long  enough  to  accommodate  the  whole  Royal 

*Court  Marshall  of  the  Duke  of  Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. 


302  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

company,  substituted;  ...  It  was  not  at  all  what 
I  supposed,  but  very  stately,  very  impressive — in  fact, 

beautiful.     I  stood  beside  the  Princess  B v.  C (I 

conversed  only  with  Princesses!),  who  was  very  amiable, 
and  told  me  all  I  needed  to  know,  about  the  personages. 
.  .  .  First,  there  was  a  grand  blast  of  music ;  then  the 
pages,  high  lackeys,  etc.,  cleared  a  circular  space  of  50  feet 
diameter  in  the  hall,  the  giant  guardsmen  towered  behind, 
and  the  music  played  outside  an  arched  entrance.  The 
ministers  entered,  in  full  uniform — black  coats  almost 
buried  under  gold  embroidery,  and  white  trousers — 
each  bearing  a  large  wax-light,  3  or  4  feet  long  with  a 
thick  wick,  sending  forth  a  strong  white  name,  and  a  sort 
of  holder  of  crystal  and  gold.  There  were  12,  the  places 
of  Bismarck,  Falk  and  one  other  being  filled  by  Generals : 
they  entered  two  by  two,  but  on  reaching  the  royal  dais 
formed  in  single  file  and  bowed  to  the  High-mighty  ones, 
then  advanced  and  stood  on  the  right,  just  before  me. 
The  bride  and  groom  descended,  bowed  gravely  to  the 
high  ones,  and  followed  the  torch-bearing  ministers  in  a 
slow,  stately  promenade  around  the  circle.  On  reaching 
the  platform,  they  bowed  again,  while  the  ministers 
marched  past,  and  took  up  their  former  station  on  the 
right.  The  groom  went  up  on  the  platform  and  sat 
down,  the  King  of  Holland  came  down,  took  the  bride's 
hand,  and  the  march  around  the  circle  began.  More 
deep  bows  and  courtesies,  the  Crown-Prince  came  down 
and  the  whole  thing  was  repeated,  the  respective  Court- 
officials  and  Pages  following  the  pair  each  time.  It  was 
more  like  a  minuet  than  anything  else — grave,  stately 
walking,  keeping  time  to  the  music,  and  slow,  majestic 
salutations.  The  circuit  was  made  about  20  times,  before 
the  bride  had  walked  with  all  the  persons  who  had  the 
right,  although  towards  the  close,  she  took  two  gentlemen 
instead  of  one.  An  interesting  part  of  the  play,  to  me, 
was  that  her  bended  head  and  downcast  eyes  were  ex 
changed,  by  the  most  consummately  graded  changes,  for 


SUNSET  303 

uplifted  head  and  proud,  flashing  eyes.  At  each  round, 
her  veil  fell  a  little  more  backward  and  her  head  was 
slightly  lifted,  her  silence  slowly  turned  into  words,  and 
her  expression  of  timidity  and  alarm  changed  into  one  of 
brightness  and  joy,  so  well  done  that  I  still  think  it  may 
have  been  real.  But  the  gradual  transition  was  better 
than  anything  I  ever  saw  on  the  stage.  .  .  .  Alto 
gether  the  Fackeltanz  is  very  imposing  and  picturesque. 
I  should  like  to  see  it  again.  But  I  shouldn't  like  to  be 
Imperial  Minister !  At  the  end  of  the  dance  the  procession 
moved  out  of  the  hall.  Both  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of 
Weimar  recognized  me  in  passing,  and  gave  special  greet 
ings.  This  was  the  close  of  the  performance,  and  it  was 
only  half -past  nine.  Carl  was  ready  in  the  ante-room 
with  my  coat,  and  had  secured  a  carriage  for  3  or  4  per 
sons  ;  so  I  hurriedly  picked  up  Rangabe  and  the  Mexican 
Secretary,  and  we  got  away  among  the  first.  It  was 
raining  hard,  and  the  train  did  not  get  off  for  half  an 
hour;  but  I  found  a  coupe  where  I  could  smoke  with 
Claparede  and  two  other  Charges,  and  rested  comfortably, 
congratulating  myself  that  I  had  come.  .  .  . 

"I  reached  home  exactly  at  u,  and  found  a  note  from 

Coleman  and  a  telegram  from  C ,  both  informing  me 

that  the  latter  had  been  liberated  within  two  hours  of  my 
visit  to  him  in  the  prison!  Early  this  morning  a  police- 
officer  called  upon  me,  by  the  order  of  the  Chief  (Madai, 
I  suppose),  and  formally  read  a  statement  that  intelli 
gence  from  Chemnitz  showed  that  the  charges  against 

C were  unfounded.  I  returned  my  thanks  to  the 

Department,  with  the  statement  that  my  action  was 
based  on  my  conviction  that  such  would  prove  to  be  the 
case.  .  .  . 

"  Coleman  and  I  are  jubilant  over  the  result  and 
he  now  confesses  that  the  wording  of  the  dispatch  to 
Chemnitz  and  my  language  to  the  prison  officials  amazed 

and  rather  alarmed  him.  Were  I  not  here,  C might 

have  been  shut  up  for  days. 


3o4  ON   TWO   CONTINENTS 

"Monday  morning.  I  really  could  not  get  this  long 
letter  finished  yesterday.  Boyesen  called  in  the  after 
noon,  to  get  a  good  deal  of  literary  criticism  from  me,  and 
the  four  Americans  then  came  for  dinner.  The  'repast' 
was  a  perfect  success:  Carl  and  Wilhelm  made  no  blun 
ders,  the  cooking  was  perfect,  and  the  guests  almost 
shed  tears  of  joy  when  each  saw  a  big  roasted  tomato  on 
his  plate.  .  .  .  Every  day  finds  me  a  little  ahead  of 
the  day  before." 

When  I  arrived  in  Berlin  a  few  days  later  my  hus 
band's  health  appeared  to  be  much  improved.  Fate 
willed  that  we  should  once  more  cast  a  hopeful  glance 
into  the  future,  and  that  for  a  brief  month  we  should 
enjoy  life  ere  our  sun  set  forever.  Two  friends  from 
America  added  to  our  happiness  at  this  time:  Professor 
Hjalmar  Hjorth  Boyesen  and  Professor  Willard  Fiske, 
both  of  Cornell  University.  Other  cultured  and  refined 
Americans  visited  us,  so  that  we  enjoyed  a  pleasant 
society,  that  reminded  us  of  our  New  York  circle.  To 
Boyesen  Taylor  said  one  day  that  he  regretted  his  past 
ill-health  principally  because  it  had  hitherto  prevented 
him  from  making  a  beginning  upon  the  Goethe-Schiller 
biography,  that  had  now  been  waiting  so  long,  and  that 
he  was  consumed  with  an  intense  longing  to  write  the  first 
chapter.  He  had  indeed  made  an  abortive  attempt  to 
begin  work  in  the  month  of  July.  On  the  other  hand,  as 
soon  as  he  felt  a  little  better,  in  August,  the  poetic  faculty 
had  reasserted  itself.  After  a  drive  from  Gotha  to 
Friedrichroda,  when  a  storm  had  destroyed  the  ancient 
stork's  nest  on  the  gable  of  a  peasant  house  in  the  little 
village  of  Wahlwinkel,  he  conceived  and  wrote  the  idyllic 
poem  "  The  Village  Stork."  His  last  poem  was  composed 


SUNSET  305 

a  few  weeks  later,  when  he  was  asked  to  contribute  his 
share  to  the  solemnities  which  the  Century  Club  prepared 
in  honour  of  the  dead  poet,  William  Cullen  Bryant.  He 
consented  reluctantly  from  a  sense  of  duty,  for  he  evi 
dently  felt  that  he  was  not  equal  to  the  task.  When  his 
ode,  the  "Epicedium,"  was  finally  finished,  he  was  not 
satisfied  with  it,  but  was  conscious  that  he  could  not 
improve  it.  Once  during  his  long  painful  illness — sick 
as  he  was,  he  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  stay  in  bed — 
he  remarked  to  me  that  the  idea  for  a  poem  had  suddenly 
come  into  his  mind.  Later,  after  an  inexorable  fate  had 
torn  him  from  me,  I  found  these  verses  written  upon  the 
back  of  a  manuscript: 

"  I  meant  to  live — I  meant  to  help  and  save 
My  fellow  creatures :  but  the  end  has  come, 
You  are  no  more  my  father  or  my  King: 
You  are  my  tyrant,  and  your  face  says — Death!'* 

They  were  the  sad  conclusion  of  that  other  verse  that  he 
had  dreamed  in  the  summer  of  1877  during  his  vacation 
in  West  Virginia: 

"The  ship  sails  true,  because  the  seas  are  wide." 

The  end  had  been  foreshadowed  years  ago.  Accele 
rated  by  a  rare  "fanaticism  of  duty"  (the  expression  of  a 
friend),  the  organic  disease  suddenly  entered  its  last 
fatal  stage  early  in  October.  That  inexplicable  spiritual 
power,  "das  Damonische" — as  Goethe  called  it — which 
in  his  earlier  years  was  manifested  in  Bayard  Taylor  as 
his  never-resting  energy  and  compelling  personal  magne 
tism,  had  in  his  later  life  overmastered,  and  now  undid 
him.  He  gave  up  his  spirit  on  December  19,  1878. 


3o6  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

With  his  last  breath  the  leaves  of  my  book  of  remi 
niscences  are  closed.  A  widow  to  whom  marriage  offered 
all  that  her  heart  could  wish  no  longer  possesses  a  future. 
The  past  alone  is  hers. 

"I  have  remembered  that 
Forgotten,  when  I  saw  nor  understood; 
And  now  remembered  since  I  know." 

EPIMETHEUS, 
"Prince  Deukalion"  Act  III,  Scene  5. 


INDEX 


AIRY,  Mrs.,  44. 

Airy,  Sir  George,  44,  45,  101. 

Aldrich,  Thomas  Bailey,  77,  147, 

216. 
Alexander  II.,  Emperor  of  Russia, 

129,  132,  134. 
Athens,  52,  53. 
Auerbach,     Berthold,     196,     224, 

288,   294. 
August,    Duke    of    Gotha-Alten- 

burg,   14. 

BALEARIC  ISLANDS,  177-179. 
Barrett,  Lawrence,  272. 
Beaconsfield,  Lord,  277,  280,  281, 

283,  287,  293. 

Berlin,  217,  218,  273,  275-305. 
Bismarck,  Prince,  126,  275,  276, 

292. 

Boker,  George  H.,  77,  107,  157. 
Booth,  Edwin,  147,  164. 
Bormio,  226,  227. 
Botta,      Mrs.      Vincenzo      (Anne 

Lynch),   77. 
Boyesen,  H.  H.,  304. 
Braun,  Emil,  22,  26,  28,  37,  38 

278,   279. 

Braun,  Mrs.  Emil,  22,  23,  26. 
Browning,    Mrs.    (Elizabeth   Bar 
rett),  23,  28,  33,  37,  186,  188. 
Browning,  Robert,  33,   114. 
Bryant,  William  Cullen,  70,  266- 

268,   305. 
Bufleb,  August,  23,  24,  41,  46,  88, 

252. 
"By- Ways  of  Europe,"  176,  193. 

CALIFORNIA,  70,  73,  74. 

Cameron,  Senator  Simon,  118, 
120,  137-139. 

Cary,  Alice  and  Phoebe,   78. 

"Cedarcroft,"  64,  66,  86-88,  98, 
100,  107,  113,  145,  151,  152, 
ISS,  I57~l63,  l65>  I71.  I72> 

198-205,       214,       2I6—2I9,       221, 
253 


Centennial  Celebration,  260,  262, 

203. 

Church,  Frederick,  149. 
Clay,   Cassius  M.,    120,    137— i39f 

141. 

Cornell  University,  207. 
"Cornwall,  Barry,"  174. 
Curtis,  George  William,  66-68,  96 

DANA,  Charles,  58. 
Darlington,  Dr.,  67. 
De  Witt,  Theodore,  26,  28,  29,  36, 
38. 

"ECHO  CLUB,"  147,  148,  218. 

Egypt,  251. 

Eichendorn,  237. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  204,  232, 

233,   24i. 
Ernest     II.,     Duke     of     Gotha- 

Altenburg,  8. 
Ernest  I.,  Duke  of  Saxe-Coburg- 

Gotha,  16,  20. 
Ernest  II.,  Duke  of  Saxe-Coburg- 

Gotha,    20,    56,    102—107,    143, 

175,   182. 

"FAUST"  (translation),  150,  151, 
165,  195,  199,  200,  207,  213, 
216,  217,  257. 

Fields,  James  T.,  no,  196,  216, 
258. 

Florence,  186-188. 

Frederick,  Crown  Prince  of  Ger 
many,  34,  277,  289,  290,  300, 
301. 

Freytag,  Gustav,  182,  195. 

Furness,  Dr.  William  H.,  160. 

GAGARIN,  Princess,  128. 

Garibaldi,  193. 

Gauss,  K.  F.,  40. 

Gevers,  Baron,  125. 

Gifford,  Sanford  R.,  77,  147,  149, 

228. 
Goethe,  196,  216,  224,  225,  244. 


307 


3o8 


INDEX— Continued 


Goethe,  Wolf  von,  37,  242,  244- 

249. 
Goethe    and    Schiller,    215,    230, 

232,  236,  242,  258,  270,  304. 
Golz,  Count,  125. 
Gortchacow,     Prince,     126,     127, 

138,  139,  141,  278. 
Gotha,  16,  18,  25,  39,  49,  101,  175, 

194,  223,  229,  230,  250. 
Gould,  Dr.  B.  A.,  22. 
Graham,     James     Lorimer,     145, 

147,  155,  181,  198,  232. 
Grant,    General   Ulysses   S.,    153, 

281-283,   285-293. 
Greeley,  Horace,  58,  78,  231. 
Greeley,  Mrs.,  78,^79. 
Gregorovius,  Ferdinand,  189,  204. 

"HANNAH  THURSTON,"  108,  145. 
Hansen,  Mrs.,  4,  5,  u,  17,  56,  194, 

223,   229. 
Hansen,  Peter  Andreas,  3-7,   16, 

21,  44,  56,  101,  164,  194,  223, 

229,  236,  244,  251. 
Harte,  Bret,  200. 
Hicks,  Thomas,  77. 
"History  of  Germany,"  232,  236 
Holland,  Dr.,  266,  267. 
Humboldt,  67. 

"JOHN    GODFREY'S    FORTUNES," 

146,  150. 

Johnson,  Eastman,  149. 
"Joseph  and  His  Friend,"  207. 

KENNETT  SQUARE,  59,  60,  90-93, 

100,   162. 
Kestner,  Miss,  37. 

LANIER,  Sidney  D.,  258. 

"Lars,"  230,  238,  255. 

Leland,  Charles  G.,  77. 

Lincoln,  President,  137-140,  157. 

Locock,  Mrs.,  125,  248. 

London,  44,  51. 

Longfellow,  Henry,  W.,  147,  216. 

Ludlow,  Fitz-Hugh,  77,  147. 

"MASQUE    OF    THE    GODS,"    219, 

220. 

Matthison,  F.,  von,  237. 
McEntee,  Jervis,  77,  147,  149,  155, 

157. 

Montebello,  Duchess  of,  125,  138. 
Montgomery,  Commodore,  73,  74. 


Moscow,  122,  123. 
Mt.  Cuba,  254,  255. 

NAPIER,  Lord,  125,  127. 

Naples,  189. 

Newcomb,  Simon,  21. 

New  York,   58,   75,   76,   146-149, 

154,   264-273. 
"Northern  Travel,"  50. 

O'BRIEN,  Fitz-James,  147. 
Oehlenschlager,  7,  41. 
Ohio,   71. 
"Ouida,"  233. 

PICKENS,  Francis  W.,  133. 
"Picture  of  St.  John,"  141,  142. 

150,  151,  161. 
"Poet's  Journal,"  88,  96. 
"Prince    Deukalion,"    220,    257, 

259,   270. 

"Prophet,"  238,  241,  243—250. 
Putnam,  George  P.,  58,  253. 

QUAKERS,    62,    89-93,    99,    230, 
255.  258. 

RAMSAY,  Lieutenant-Colonel,  226, 

227. 

Reid,  Whitelaw,  212,  232. 
Reynolds,  General  John  F.,  113. 
Robinson,  Dr.  Edward,  79. 
Rome,  26,  27,  31,  36,  191-193. 
Ruckert,  Friedrich,  103. 
Russamowsky,   Countess,    134, 

J35- 

Russell,  Lord  Odo,  279-283,  287, 
292. 

SALISBURY,  Marquis  of,  277,  279, 

284,   287, 

San  Francisco,  74,  ^5,  208-210. 
San  Gemini,  35. 
Schiller,  225. 
Seeberg,  9-13,  1 6,  17,  39. 
Seward,  William  H.,  127,  137-140. 
Simplon  Pass,  228. 
Sorrento,   189—191. 
St.  Paul,  72. 
St.  Peter's,  32. 
St.  Petersburg,  125-142. 
Stedman,   Edmund  Clarence,   77, 

109,    146,    155,     157-159,    161, 

192,  200,  219,  238. 
Stoddard,  Lorimer,  146,  206. 


INDEX— Continued 


309 


Stoddard,  Mrs.  (Elizabeth  Bar- 
stow),  59,  69,  78,  88,  97,  115, 
146,  147,  150,  155,  187. 

Stoddard,  Richard  Henry,  59,  69, 
77,  88,  97,  115,  147,  J54,  iSS- 

"Story  of  Kennett,"  161,  164. 

Swinburne,  Algernon  Charles,  174. 

TAYLOR,  Annie,  42,  45,  68,   145, 

175. 

Taylor,  Bayard,  23—25,  42,  43, 
45-47,  50,  52,  55,  56,  62,  65,  69, 
70,  73,  74,  79-85.  88>  89>  94,  96» 
100,  102—106,  108—110,  114, 
117—121,  126—128,  132,  134, 
136-142,145-147,  150-152, 154, 
J55»  I59~I7°»  176-180,  182, 
186-188,  191-193,  195-197, 
199—205,  207-211,  213—215, 
218-220,  227,  230—250,  252, 
254-257,  259-261,  263-305. 

Taylor,  Becky,  92. 

Taylor,    Emma,    42-45,    60,    98, 

145.    I56- 

Taylor,  Dr.  Franklin,  92. 
Taylor,  Frederick,  42,  43,  45,  60, 

99,  109,  111-113,  117,  144. 
Taylor,  Joseph,  62,  63,  199,  211, 

217. 
Taylor,  Lilian,  115,  170,  190,  191, 

206,  256,  262,  264,  301. 
Taylor,  Mrs.  Joseph,  63,  199,  211, 

217,   274. 


Tennyson,  Alfred,  173,  268. 
Thackeray,    William  M.,    51,    78, 

no. 

Thompson,  Launt,  147,  149. 
Tribune,  New  York,  50,  53,  100, 

IJ5>    i53.    i?6.    2I2,   231,   233- 

236,    250,    259—261,    266,    269, 

271. 
Tupper,  Martin  F.,  265-268. 

VENICE,    184-186. 
Vienna,  233—236. 

WADDINGTON,  Prime  Minister  of 
France,  278,  280,  283,  289. 

War,  Civil,  94-101,  108-113,  116— 
118,  153,  156,  157. 

Warner,  Anna  and  Susan,  77,  78. 

Weimar,  238-249,  252. 

"Wetherell,  Elizabeth,"  78. 

Whipple,  E.  P.,  217. 

Whittier,  John  G.,  90,  258. 

Wight,  Orlando  W.,  77. 

William  I.,  Emperor  of  Germany, 
275,  281. 

Willis,  N.  P.,  69,  109,  117. 

Wyse,  Miss,  54,  55. 

Wyse,  Sir  Thomas,  54. 

YATES,  Edmund,  234. 
.Young,  Brigham,  208,  209. 


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